Under Hidden Starlight
by Pachelbel
Summary: Shortly after Return of the King, the Elves are faced with a new enemy; one solely interested in them. In order to save themselves, they must pull together. For Glorfindel, that means learning to trust his friends again... [Discontinued...sort of]
1. Rivendell

Disclaimers: I do not own the recognizable characters in this story.

Author's Notes: It's been nearly two years since I began this little fic (...Whoa...!) And so I decided to edit and add a few things. As I said before, I've never done anything quite like this, and Tolkien-speech is something only Thundera Tiger has come close to so far (that I've seen), so if you have suggestions, I'm happy to take them.

Hidden Starlight

Chapter One: Rivendell

"Here we part," Legolas said. Gimli slid off the horse's back with a thankful grunt when his stout legs hit the ground.

He turned and looked up. "So we do, Master Elf. And if our parting is short, the time we are away will pass swiftly."

"Wise words!" Legolas smiled. "I will only be gone for as long as it takes Arod to carry me to Rivendell, and from there to Aragorn."

Gimli eyed the horse doubtfully. "Good. In the time it takes your horse to do so, we dwarves should have this colony on its feet."

"I could say much about how raising the colony to the stature of a dwarf would be a /small/ improvement, but look! There are your kindred, and they wield clubs as wildly as you do an axe." Legolas' bright grey eyes sparkled at his friend's sputtering rage.

Legolas finally broke down into laughter. "Peace! You know that I jest. There are not words enough to praise the honor of the Dwarves."

"You are fortunate, Legolas," Gimli muttered. "Fortunate that Elves have such a way with words. For that, I will not climb up on that horse and strangle the immortal life out of you."

"Farewell, until I return, Master Dwarf."

"And to you, Legolas." He turned and walked back to the group of Dwarves. Legolas whispered to Arod, and the horse galloped away.

Several miles out of Rivendell, Arod pulled to a stop. The fresh early-summer breeze fanned out his mane and tale, and sent waves through the tall green grass.

Legolas stared ahead to the forests of the beautiful Elven land, and shivered at the distress he felt. It was in the trees, flowing through the streams, and emanating from his kindred. He couldn't see them, yet, and it disturbed him all the more.

"Forward, Arod!" he urged, and the horse raced on anxiously.

They slowed as they entered the borders of Elrond's kingdom, even though tension still hung as heavy as fog. Every guard was in his place, and all was quiet.

"Greetings, Legolas," a dark-haired Elf, Arasanu, said after he had dismounted. "The Lady Arwen wishes to speak with you." Arasanu led Arod away to be tended, and Legolas walked swiftly up a grand staircase to a platform overlooking most of Rivendell. Elrond's only daughter stood at the top, speaking softly to two elves Legolas didn't recognize. What they told her bothered her, but she sent them away quickly with some new errand.

"Legolas," she sighed when she noticed him at the top of the stairs. "In any other time, I could not have been so glad to see you, and yet dread your presence also."

"What is it that so troubles fair Rivendell, and yourself?" Legolas looked around them as if that would show him the source. "It is like nothing I have felt before." Arwen fixed her gaze on a small building.

"Perhaps not," Elrond joined them. Arwen turned to him anxiously, but the only expression on her father's face was one of grief and foreboding. "And that is in some ways a comfort, Legolas Greenleaf. Before you depart, I have things to show you. Come."

The Elven archer moved to follow and Elrond went on, "One of our kindred was gravely wounded. We have only just brought him home to Rivendell." The wizened Elf paused, gazing down at the small home below. "He was captured by Orcs while on a patrol I had sent him on, more than a month ago."

Legolas went cold inside. "And he yet lives?"

"He does. The wounds are beyond my understanding, and none can heal them, but they were not fatal." Elrond's gaze hardened and Legolas knew he was withholding a thought. Without another word, Elrond led him down to the small cottage.

Inside, a small fire burned under its stone chimney. The home was two rooms in all, and both were filled with ornate carpets, heavy green drapes, and countless tokens of far lands and many races. It all fit together so the eye flowed from one shelf to the next without lingering long on any one thing. The place felt comfortable without having much living space.

Seated near the fire in a chair Legolas recognized as one from Rohan, a fair-haired Elf stirred. 

"Glorfindel," Elrond began, and the other Elf's pale eyes turned in their direction. "This is Legolas of Mirkwood, son of Thranduil." Glorfindel cocked his head slightly, looking as if he were about to speak, but he nodded instead and stayed quiet.

In dancing firelight, shadows usually softened Elven features. But not so now. This night, the light cruelly illuminated the white scar that ran along the right side of Glorfindel's face, from brow to cheek.

Glorfindel's eyes did not meet either of the two Elves' faces. "I am sorry," he said hollowly. "That I cannot rise to meet you. Lord Elrond understands, I expect."

Elrond nodded to himself and responded, "Arwen is concerned for you."

"She has told me such, as have you." Glorfindel sighed. "It is appreciated." The crackling fire ate away at a few silent minutes. "What is a Prince of Mirkwood come here for, and alone?"

Legolas glanced up at Elrond and back at Glorfindel. "I was asked to escort Arwen to Gondor."

Glorfindel smiled, but it was empty; probably a reaction he gave out of habit. "But you don't have Gloin's son with you."

"He was needed elsewhere."

"You haven't been here long, and I would offer you food or drink if I had any to give, but I do not." He blinked and turned his face towards the fire, away from his two guests. "I thank you for the visit, but I'm not much of a host presently."

"Rest well, Glorfindel," Elrond told him, and nodded towards Legolas. He didn't speak again until they were well away. "The Orcs may not have had time to kill him--we're still uncertain how he escaped--but they took his sight. With it, they took his joy. We can merely guess at what they did to him or where they took him, but he won't listen to anyone here. He hasn't come out since we set him there, when he was yet dragging himself around because he could not find his way otherwise. I fear we may still lose him."

"He finds no more love for this world. He suffers in darkness, with only the memories of the Orcs' torture to keep him company, for those are most recent, and freshest in his mind." Legolas shook his head sadly. "No Elf can comprehend such a fate."

"Beauty and joy come not from sight."

The prince shook his head once."Nay, truly, but how does one remember that when all the stars have been taken away?"


	2. Glorfindel

Chapter Two: Glorfindel

Most of Rivendell spoke in hushed whispers that night, begging each other for word of the blinded Elf Lord. Elrond avoided saying anything about him, and Glorfindel refused any more well-wishers that night.

Legolas retreated to the stables. "Hello, my friend," he murmured as he took Arod's head and stroked his mane. The horse turned one ear to him and kept the other swiveling towards the other horses.

Legolas turned, hearing the whisper of cloth on stone, and then Arwen entered. He offered her a smile and went back to combing out Arod's mane with his fingers. He found no words to say to her, and the horses were the only noise in the stables for a while.

"We shall depart tomorrow morning." Arwen spoke as she stroked Arod's cheek.

"As you wish." He frowned thoughtfully into the silence. "Tell me. Aragorn knows not of Glorfindel's fate, does he?"

"Nay. If he did, he would have come."

"Then why have you not spoken of it? Surely Mithrandir could have helped him, had he known sooner. Perhaps he might still?"

"Lord Elrond deems that the injuries are severe, and were accomplished long before he was found. It was too late to set right the wicked things that were done to him." Her bright eyes met Legolas', burning with a pain and fear he was too dismayed just then to feel himself. "You may not know him well, Legolas, but surely you can see that none who dwell in Rivendell can help him. Yet even so, Glorfindel needs help."

"What ought we to do? Or I, what ought *I* do? You say truly that I know him not. We have spoken in passing when he came to my father's court. We spoke before it was decided what should be done with the One Ring. If he listens not to you, his friend, why should he listen to an acquaintance?"

"You have a love for life, and the creatures in this world, that I can only hope to come close to, at rare times. That is why."

The Prince sighed. "Then I will do what I can." Doubt was thick in his voice. How could he teach Glorfindel, an Elf Lord no less, to love life? He looked over his shoulder at the white horse behind him. "Is this his horse?"

"Yea, that is Asfaloth."

"He is grieved." This much was obvious; everyone in Rivendell was upset. Legolas walked over to him, trying to comfort him, but the horse only turned away from him.

********

Legolas found Elrond at the end of the evening meal, but waited until he was alone before he approached him. "Queen Arwen believes I can help Glorfindel."

"I hope for this, also."

Legolas drew in a deep breath. "Then allow him to accompany the Queen and myself to Gondor."

Elrond's expression was caught somewhere between surprise and uncertainty; he stared at the younger Elf, but was in the end the one to turn away. "I cannot see that he would wish to accompany you, Legolas."

"Nay, I thought not. But he is honorable, and would follow an order, even if he is not a soldier at this time."

Elrond sighed wearily. "If he does not find anything left here...I would wish to be with him when he gives up his life."

Legolas gave him a moment of silence. "If he stays here, it would be only so that he could die amongst his people. There is no hope for life if he chooses to remain here."

He looked at Legolas sidelong, considering the options. "I will tell him to ready himself for this journey."

The morning came slowly. Elrond ordered everyone in Rivendell who would not be going with Legolas to stay indoors. This left Legolas and Arwen to try to coax Asfaloth out of his stall, and Elrond to try to order Glorfindel to go through with what he'd agreed to the night before.

"Why must you be so stubborn!" Arwen groaned, picking herself up off the ground.

"I doubt Elrond is having an easier time," Legolas replied, and went back to whispering into the horse's ear. At first it had been comfort, then pleading, then bribing. When he bordered on threats, Arwen suggested they physically move him out, like mortal men did with their horses.

Asfaloth was not pleased with that.

Arwen pushed hair back from her face and carefully moved back into the stall. "Glorfindel is in a small, clean house, and not a stall."

"I warned you against it. As did he. He is an Elven horse. You cannot force the same policies men use with their horses upon him." Legolas leaned against the gate.

"And I told *you* that he is *Glorfindel's* horse, and will listen only to him." The two Elves were silent as they watched the horse. Asfaloth bowed his head again, just waiting for them to try something new.

"On the count of three," Legolas mouthed to Arwen. She nodded and stood directly behind Asfaloth. Legolas stood at his side, and the horse turned his head slightly to give the Elf an incredulous snort. "Three!"

They pushed with all their might, and Asfaloth took two steps towards the door before suddenly veering away from Legolas. He and Arwen stumbled forward into the gate, saved from falling again into the straw and muck.

"I told you, he's an Elven horse!" Arwen cried between peals of laughter. "We cannot force--"

"Shh!" Legolas snickered, covering her mouth with one hand. "Then perhaps I ought to work with him as an Elf of Mirkwood?" He stepped forward and whispered shortly into the horse's ear.

Asfaloth shook his head indignantly. "Trenar Asfaloth, Arod!" Legolas nodded confidently, and after a minute or two, Asfaloth bolted out of the stables.

"And how is it that the Elves of Mirkwood work with their horses?"

"Nay, not with our horses," Legolas said. "They would surely never believe it."

"And what did you say--or have Arod say--to him?"

Legolas hesitated, and crossed the hall to Arod. "I simply told him what Gimli once told me."

"Truly? And what would that be?" Legolas still seemed hesitant. He sprang nimbly onto Arod's back. Arwen called her own horse to her. "Tell me so that I may manage Asfaloth when you aren't around."

He shook his head and smiled merrily. "It matters not if I tell you, except to satisfy your curiosity! He wouldn't believe it again. I would dare say he will no longer believe *anything* we tell him."

When they rode to Glorfindel and Elrond, Asfaloth snorted angrily at Arod and his rider. "My curiosity only grows the more you let it sit!" Arwen murmured.

But Asfaloth laid his great head on Glorfindel's shoulder, and it moved him to tears as he stroked the horse's shining white nose.

"He will not let you fall," Elrond said softly. "Trust in him as he trusts in you."

Asfaloth waited patiently as Glorfindel struggled onto his back. The Orcs had destroyed the bells that had once adorned the Elven messenger's horse, but the two still appeared proud and beautiful in the gray morning light. Glorfindel reluctantly loosened his hold on Asfaloth's mane and straightened.

Elrond watched, standing silent and still, as the three slowly left Rivendell. He didn't move from his spot until he was sure no one else would notice them, several leagues out, heading to Gondor.

Trenar Asfaloth, Arod! -- Basically, "Tell Asfaloth, Arod!"


	3. To Gondor

Chapter Three: To Gondor

Arwen couldn't hide her smile any longer. Their situation wasn't amusing, actually. The sun was just barely past rising, but she was leaving behind Elrond, perhaps for the last time, to be with the one person she loved more than anything that had ever, or would ever, exist. On top of that, the road was long to Gondor--it seemed to her that the miles between herself and her husband were endless.

Yet every time Legolas would urge Arod to walk next to Asfaloth, the white Elven stallion would snort, lay back his ears, and turn his head in an attempt to bite the Prince. And then Arwen would again fight off laughter.

"I apologized!" Legolas protested when Asfaloth managed to grab his tunic. "You have my deepest regrets, but it was necessary!"

Glorfindel frowned and put a hand on Asfaloth's graceful neck. It calmed him a little, until Gaernell, Arwen's mount, walked next to him. The larger horse gave her a suspicious glare and shook his mane.

"Apologize sincerely," she advised. "Explain why you said what you said."

"You still wish only to learn my secrets," Legolas protested. "Going into detail will not change his mind."

"I wish to learn no tricks that will cause a horse to begrudge me!"

"I am curious as well, Prince of Mirkwood," Glorfindel commented softly. "So speak. Tell me what you told Asfaloth."

"I cannot take all the credit--nor all the blame--for this," Legolas finally said. "But very well. It is a tale that Gimli, Gloin's son, would vouch for, were he here."

"Would he indeed?" Arwen asked, giving him a skeptic's smile.

"I speak of this at great pains, milady, and I can rethink my decision." 

"No, no, go on. I will hold my tongue as long as I am able."

Legolas nodded, but rode on in silence for a few paces, as if to make certain he had their attention. "Not long ago, Gimli and I were visiting distant lands, and places that had been sung of but never looked upon by our eyes..." Legolas faltered a moment, seeing the flinch his choice of words brought to Glorfindel's face. "Among these were the Glittering Caves, and Fangorn, and our homelands. At the time, we were visiting some of Gimli's kindred. Their caves are grand, as far as I can judge, for I still do not enjoy being under the earth.

"However, his kindred were very kind, and shortly after we arrived, they gave us a large banquet. My father has wonderful wines, unseen elsewhere in Middle-earth, but these Dwarves...were I to have a choice, I would hardly give the wine of Mirkwood a second glance." Arwen raised an eyebrow, and looked rather impressed. "We stayed there three nights. The first night I slept inside the caves with the Dwarven folk, but the second night I could stand to be away from the trees no longer. I was well contented, for they had given us an even larger banquet that night, and opened their finest wine cellar."

Arwen opened her mouth to comment, but settled on a grin and kept quiet.

Legolas continued, "I was resting peacefully, while Gimli found himself curious--or perhaps too full of ale, which is likely. He raced out of the caves, crying my name as loudly as his lungs could bear. Dwarves, I may add, have powerful lungs. This woke me immediately, and when I landed, he told me that the caves, the caves were on fire!

"I knew this could not be so, and thought he was simply too drunk for one night, until he told me that it was the wine that had caught fire. We all know that wine, unlike stone, burns well. Keep in mind that there were many young Dwarves, some who could hardly hold up a hammer, still in the caves. I ran back inside."

"And what part of this did you tell Asfaloth?" Arwen asked when he was quiet for too long.

"Well, there lies the trick, Lady Undomiel. There was no fire. Just as there were no snakes in Asfaloth's stall, but had he waited any longer, I assured him I would find some."

Arwen chuckled. "I seem to remember a letter Gimli sent Aragorn, some time ago. But in it, he says that when you were running back into the caves, you were not crying for the Dwarves to rescue their children."

"Dwarves remember strange things when they have their ale."

"Oh? So then you didn't 'rescue' two crates of their wine before you realized he was toying with you?" 

Glorfindel was laughing as he shook his head. "Never mind. I do not wish to know what lies you have told. Certain things about certain horses ought not to be known."

Asfaloth snapped at Legolas again, indignantly. "To be fair, Glorfindel, you should know that he was going to rescue you...so you needn't worry, your horse does not have a taste for our drink."

Arwen leaned forward to stroke Asfaloth's neck. The horse gently nuzzled her hand, careful not to jar or startle Glorfindel. 

Legolas glanced over his shoulder and smiled. "An idea has struck me." Arwen looked up at him. "We shall need a place to rest tonight. Where do you wish to stop?"

Arwen cast her gaze about them. "The sky is clear, so if we must, we may sleep under the stars." Glorfindel didn't comment. "I know not where the nearest towns are, though I'm certain we shall see one ere we reach Gondor."

They rode on for several miles before their horses began to tire. Glorfindel said little, except when prompted by the other Elves, and Arwen finally called a halt to their journey when she began to notice Asfaloth slowing, or even stopping briefly, to keep Glorfindel balanced.

Legolas dismounted when they had chosen a secluded meadow to stay in. Arod trotted around the tall, soft grass, waiting for the other horses to come join him. 

"Legolas!" Arwen cried, but he had already sprung forward.

Glorfindel was deathly pale; he grabbed blindly for Asfaloth's mane, trying to stop himself from toppling off his horse; yet he missed. Legolas caught him, but they were both knocked to the ground. Asfaloth had turned, as if hoping to catch his friend in anyway he could, and laid his nose next to Glorfindel's cheek when he found him.

Arwen rushed over, and they glared at Glorfindel accusingly. "You should have told us you wearied of the journey!" Gondor's Queen spoke first.

"Why did you not say something, if you were in pain?" Legolas demanded, a few seconds after Arwen began to speak.

Glorfindel was half sitting on the Prince; Arwen was hovering near his side, and Asfaloth was still poking his nose about, trying to find the cause of his Master's pain. "Please, let me be!" he burst out. He struggled to his knees, and then to his feet.

He took a few shaky steps forward, slowly seeming to regain his balance. The fair haired Elf breathed a sigh of relief, having conquered his pain, and started forward. His foot caught on the small rock in front of him.

Even the Elves could not move fast enough to catch him this time. Glorfindel lay still, propped up on his hands, seething and fighting the tears which threatened to break loose.

Legolas stood up. Arwen stared. Asfaloth nudged Glorfindel's shoulder, who rolled slightly to the side and shoved the horse's nose away angrily. Asfaloth pulled his head back immediately, and backed off a few steps.

Glorfindel squoze shut his sightless eyes. "I am sorry...Asfaloth..."

"It has been a long day," Arwen said softly.

"And I am behaving like a child?" Glorfindel held out a hand to his horse, who obediently came to his side and, supporting the Elf's weight, led him to more level ground.

"It is understandable," Legolas told him.

Glorfindel smiled. "The day is still young, is it not. If we travel this way the rest of the trip, your patience will soon run thin." He murmured into Asfaloth's ear, and was lead to a sturdy rough-barked pine tree. He shifted his weight from Asfaloth to the trunk of the tree, and slowly made his way down until he was sitting against it.

Asfaloth watched him protectively, though it seemed to Arwen and Legolas that he could have been glowing, so great was his joy at being with Glorfindel again. Arod and Gaernell nipped at Asfaloth's flanks, trying to lure him away to their games. But he didn't even seem to consider it until Glorfindel slept.


	4. Immortal Illness

Author's Notes: If you're wondering about the horses' personalities, well, after I started writing, Asfaloth started reminding me of my mother's horse, ironically named "Sweet Pea". So he won't be letting his grudge of Legolas go anytime soon. Arod is a lot like my horse, "Pixie", only Arod is a little more playful. Gaernell is like Pixie as well, actually.

Chapter 4: Immortal Illness

Legolas and Arwen slept for over an hour while Glorfindel slept. The day grew warm quickly and just as quickly made them comfortable and drowsy.

"I will patrol," Legolas said, shouldering his bow and quiver.

"Very well," Arwen replied, lying under the cover of the trees bordering the meadow. "Rouse me if you tire or wish for company."

He left her and climbed an old oak tree, reflecting idly back over the two hundred or so years it had taken to mature. The Prince sprang lightly from treetop to treetop, and in so doing got a good feel of their surroundings. He noted, off in the distance, what he believed to be a small town.

Legolas settled at last on a high, sturdy limb. He listened complacently to the chatter of the forest until, faintly even to his ears, he heard the ethereal songs of his people. He almost called out to the Elves as they passed, but something stayed his tongue, and they moved on, never noticing the three travelers.

Legolas knew where they were going; his heart longed to follow them. Slowly, his eyes wandered to the road his kindred had taken, dreaming of what they'd see ere they sailed. What must they be feeling? Certainly not what he was; for them, their time here was spent, their cares soon to become a distant horizon, no more than a dull throb when they searched their memories of Middle-earth. They could give in and abate the sea longing.

He gaze fell over dark shining hair, speckled by small, sunny openings in the green canopy over her head. Arwen. He felt the same trill of gladness and honor he always did when he saw her, but it was now enhanced with wonder at how she could give up her journey West.

Glorfindel woke with a slight grunt and blinked a few times, the reflexive action of one finding things not as they should be. Legolas could pin down the moment Glorfindel remembered where he was. The blind Elf turned his head as if to look for his companions, another reflexive action. Asfaloth was asleep with his front hooves in a small stream, else the horse would immediately have run to the Elf's side.

The same silence that had stolen Logolas's ability to call out to the Silvan Elves kept him from drawing Glorfindel's attention. For a moment, Glorfindel looked as if he were going to stand, but the determined, thoughtful expression evaporated into the humid afternoon. He leaned his head against the tree behind him and shut his eyes.

Legolas knew that it was one's eyes that were considered the windows of the soul, but what he saw in Glorfindel was spread through every part of his countenance. Emptiness replaced the commitment he had seen only a moment before. He knew that, had Glorfindel the choice, he never again would have risen from the ground, and it panicked the prince.

"Glorfindel!" He leaped down from the trees and sprinted towards him. "I began to wonder when you would tire of your rest."

"Tire of my rest?" Glorfindel repeated, with a bemused laugh. "Tis an odd thing to say." His smile faded. "But I must admit it is the reason I awakened."

"But fair Arwen has not. Come with me, that we may speak and not disturb her."

"Nay, Legolas. I would go with you, but..." he shook his head slightly. "Nay. I find myself comfortable here."

Arwen stirred and stretched. "Ah, you two! Hardly quieter than cave trolls. Well, Legolas, did you find aught of interest by yourself?"

"I did. The forest here is lively; whatever may have come upon it this past year, it has found peace." 

Arwen smiled, feeling the warmth and hospitality that dwelt around them as well. She turned her face towards the sun and then back to her friends. "There is still much light left in this day. Glorfindel, do you wish to move on?"

"We travel to Gondor for your sake, Lady Arwen. If you desire to leave, we shall."

"There is a town many leagues from here; we would reach it shortly after dark, if we do not stop," Legolas said.

"Then we shall ride on," Arwen said.

"Tol enni, Arod!" Legolas called. A copper head appeared over the brow of the hill. He shook his honey-blond mane, tossed a glance over his shoulder, and looked eagerly back at Legolas. "Nay, my friend, I need you here. Tog Asfaloth."

"He will still come if I call, Legolas," Glorfindel chuckled.

"You make a valid point."

Arwen laughed softly. "Stay here, then. I am going to Gaernell; perhaps he, too, has found something of interest, beneath the trees."

Asfaloth was awake, Legolas and Arwen could see, but he was waiting for Glorfindel's call. Or perhaps to find Legolas alone, judging by the wicked glares he sent the Elf every now and again.

Arod stretched his nose towards Arwen as she passed, was wisely ignored, and finally decided to join Legolas. He was met with affectionately scolding words, and then the Elf climbed easily onto his back.

It was a struggle to get Glorfindel mounted on Asfaloth again. Rivendell's streets had been significantly smoother than what they were standing on now. Every time he fell, Glorfindel silently let Arwen catch him, hold him up, and attempt to place him back on his horse. His frustration became evident in his sightless, pale eyes; beneath that, even after they had succeeded, something else brewed, which Legolas did not wish to think long on.

The sun was setting two hours later, and Glorfindel lagged slightly behind. Asfaloth was a gentle mount, however, and of all horses could be trusted not to let him fall, at least without enough warning to Legolas or Arwen.

The soft plodding of Asfaloth's hooves abruptly stopped. Legolas and Arwen turned, as Glorfindel murmured, "I hear something. They come near...they speak of...I cannot decipher it. Their voices...their voices are harsh, mocking..."

"I hear nothing," Arwen said. "Legolas?"

He shook his head. "Nor do I. Can you point out their direction, Glorfindel?"

"No. They are too faint. They no longer speak to each other, in any case." Asfaloth walked on. Glorfindel would ever be oblivious to the alarmed stares his friends gave him.

They reached the edge of the town shortly after the moon had risen to its peak. It was a bright night; their breaths shone like silver clouds in front of them, and for miles about everything was clear and beautiful.

They could see easily the streets stretching from one end of the town to the other. None walked them except a group of small dogs, and some men staggering drunkenly home. In defiance of the night, the town itself was withdrawn, without a friendly atmosphere, or a touch of welcome.

Elves' endurance far outlasted that of most other creatures on Middle-earth. Had the Orcs been kinder with Glorfindel, the three would have passed the town by. But kindness is not in the nature of an Orc, nor is mercy, and never was there pity.

He had tried not to show it before, but more and more frequently, Arwen and Legolas heard Glorfindel gasping, at first in pain, and then as if he were losing his breath.

"I will ride ahead and search for a room," Legolas said. Arod galloped into the town, stopping only when they found an inn.

The dining area was crowded and smoky; every patron was speaking, or in some cases, yelling, to one another. Once Legolas shut the door behind him, all eyes turned on him. 

He met their gazes steadily. "I wish to speak with the landlord."

A stocky gray-haired man walked out from the kitchen, wringing his hands on a stained apron. He did not introduce himself as anything but 'the Innkeeper', and offered Legolas the only available room. Fortunately, the inn's stables were mostly empty, and there was room for the horses as well.

Legolas knew that he was probably the first Elf this town had ever seen. He dreaded their reaction to Glorfindel.

"I have found us lodging," Legolas said somberly when he returned to Arwen and Glorfindel. "It is small. I do not think that we shall find much peace during our stay, the way the Men there marvel at the presence of Elves, but we have no choice left."

Glorfindel was leaning over Asfaloth's neck, clinging to the silver mane; his face was the color of cold ashes. He seemed not to notice what Legolas said. 

The moonlight glittered on Asfaloth's coat and the cobblestoned under his hooves. It caught the scars on Glorfindel's face, and they were bone white in that darkness.

Arwen gravely laid her hand on his shoulder. "He needs rest. It does not matter where, so long as we reach it soon. If they trouble us, the wrath of Gondor will be upon them."

Glorfindel uttered a low moan. Legolas's fair face was taught with worry. "Follow me. It is not far."

Tol enni: "Come to me"

Tog Asfaloth: "Bring Asfaloth" (Yay! I remembered this time. Not everything Legolas said to Arod is translated into Elvish because...I'm lazy...but in my defense I wrote some of an assignment today in Elvish!)


	5. Great Balls Of Fire (sorry, was for my d...

Chapter Five: Great Balls of Fire

"Glorfindel, lean on us," Arwen said. The night had become darker as they rode into town, partially because of their sensitivity to the natural world around them, which was distressed. The chimney smoke helped add to the uneasy feel of the town by blotting out the stars with pluming grey-brown shadows.

Glorfindel's breathing was uneven, taken in shallow pants, broken off by sudden tremulous gulps. Legolas gently pulled him from Asfaloth's back, as Arwen guided him safely to the ground and held him upright.

Asfaloth placed his warm, velvet nose against Glorfindel's chest, meaning to comfort him, but it created more of a burden on the other two Elves.

Arwen shook her head, "Daro, Asfaloth. Cin mil dringa tin naeth, egh daro men. Tiriatham Glorfindel an edh, im gwestam." The white horse reluctantly stepped back.

Legolas eased what weight he was supporting onto Arwen and stepped back. She adjusted to it and said, "Take the horses to the stalls. I will go with Glorfindel."

She was a Queen among men, and they were more likely to listen to her than they were to Legolas. But even then.... Perhaps it was only Glorfindel's talk of things neither he nor Arwen could hear, but Legolas found himself apprehensive, his gaze darting from one obscured corner of town to the other as he led the horses away.

Since the Prince of Mirkwood had come and gone, the inn had been through a buzz of activity and overcrowding. Arwen and Glorfindel had to force their way through the door, to be met with a room so cramped they could not hope to find a path to the rooms.

The Men had been surprised when they saw Legolas Greenleaf. They were awestruck when they looked upon Arwen Evenstar, whose beauty had not been seen in Middle-earth in hundreds of mortal lifetimes.

Arwen's hand strayed from Glorfindel to the hilt of her thin mithril dagger, which had been a wedding gift from Gimli, and Aragorn had insisted she take with her. She searched their faces and said clearly, "We have a room here. I wish to see the keeper of this inn, that he may take us to it."

"Ah, you may stay in my room, milady," a man standing near them snickered, leering at her.

Glorfindel drew his breath and forced himself to stand a little straighter. Arwen saw his strength could not last much longer, and she knew that these Men must not see any more weakness than they already had. 

"Where is the innkeeper?" she demanded, drawing all of her royal heritage into the command.

"I am he," the Innkeeper said, working his way through his room of customers. He stopped in front of them, trying hard not to stare at her. Once his eye caught the jagged scars on her companions face, it was impossible to turn his eyes elsewhere. "What happened to 'im?"

"That is not your concern," Arwen told him as gently as possible, while leaving no doubt that the matter was closed. "Please show us to the room which my companion, Legolas, rented from you."

"Of course," he said absently.

The maiming of an Elf is a grievous thing for anyone to witness, for they are closely entwined to all beautiful things which men long for and yet struggle to comprehend. There was much sorrow, and pity, and even fear in the Innkeeper's face as he stared so long at Glorfindel.

"Please," Arwen whispered. "Take us there."

"Of course." This time, he turned away and led them up a flight of worn, splintered stairs. He unlocked an old, warped door and held it open for her. By this time, she was mostly dragging Glorfindel. He could hardly lift his own feet. "Do you need a healer?"

"No. He needs a peaceful night's rest. When my companion comes, please be sure the crowds do not hinder him, or disturb us through the night. You will be paid generously for such efforts." Arwen helped Glorfindel to the straw bed and looked over her shoulder at the Innkeeper.

"I will do as you say," the man answered, and hurried out, shutting the door behind him.

Glorfindel groaned, squirming from side to side; eventually, as Arwen saw, he forced himself to lie still. This was only accomplished when he curled himself up, hugging his abdomen and tucking his chin onto his chest. Finally, he slipped into his Elvish dreams.

Arwen sighed when he tossed no more, and shifted her attention back to guarding the door and waiting for Legolas to return.

She was surprised when, without any disturbance from below, she heard his soft footfall approaching the door. Arwen opened it quietly for him, and once he was inside, she sat back on her stiff wooden chair.

"He sleeps?" Legolas asked, hardly above a whisper, as he gazed at the huddled form on the bed.

"Yes. And not too soon. He behaved as...as Men I have seen do." Arwen blinked and studied her knife. "Sick men."

She continued to stare at her knife, but she was aware that Legolas's eyes had turned to her. "What do you mean, Lady Undomiel, that he behaved as....?"

"A sick man; a mortal, stricken with illness."

Legolas stared first at her, then at Glorfindel, in disbelief. Arwen placed the knife on her lap. "Whatever ails him presently, Legolas, he hid it from my father, or it is new." Desolately, she went on, "Or perhaps he is only further exhausted than we thought him to be."

"You think worse. I know it, but you must not." The prince turned to her, his expression stubborn as only the youngest son of King Thranduil could make it. "I know what assumption this has lead you to make, but I suggest, even for his sake do I beg, that you to take it back and dwell on other thoughts."

She shook her head, her eyes bright with sorrow, rather than with Elven beauty. "Playing ignorant will not help him."

"Nor will giving up hope for him!" Now beneath the persistence, there was confusion, and dismay. "We must not lose hope for him. We do not know what has beset him, and if nothing else, Queen of Gondor, cling to that. For we know not."

Glorfindel shivered, uncurled slightly, and drifted back into the waking world. He shuddered every so often, but otherwise remained as still as he had when he slept.

"How do you feel?" Arwen asked, crossing the room to his side.

"I...do not know." His voice was low, and bare. "My head is light, and at times your voice sounds muffled to my ears. I sweat, though I am not hot.... When I move, the ground seeks to throw me aside, and I fear it, for I cannot guess where I should fall."

"How long have you suffered thus?" Legolas asked.

"Not long. It was sudden, but it relents now," as he spoke, he uncurled himself a little more, tentatively. "I felt similarly before, when I labored under the Orcs' foul claws. But it is many times multiplied this night."

After a moment of thought, he went on quietly, "They made me drink a black liquid that even they had not touched. For a few seconds afterwards, I was dizzy...much like I was just now. When it passed, they tied me with my back pressed against the red eye they had carved into a tree nearly as old as you, Arwen. Then they took my sight, or what was left, for when we battled, they had..." Glorfindel's voice seemed to catch in his throat. "I dreamt of this, but I do not wish to speak on it any longer."

"Recover your strength. If you are well enough in a few hours, I will ask that you eat something." Arwen told him softly.

A fight had begun downstairs, and the Elves listened for a few minutes as it grew louder, as if it included every Man who had shoved himself into the small dining area.

Abruptly it stopped.

Arwen's and Legolas's eyes were both fixed on the same far corner of the room, which was situated above where the fight had been. 

"This is strange; Aragorn would be curious to hear this," Arwen murmured. "To have an entire room of drunken Men stop fighting at once."

Legolas tensed. "There has been a hateful presence in this village since before we came upon it. I feel it has come now to the Inn."

Glorfindel, too, had his attention fixed on the curt silence. He gasped slightly and said, "They ask about us."

Their sharp hearing caught the faint clack of boots on the stairs; it was plain that whoever it was tried to come stealthily. Legolas turned to Arwen. "We cannot get to the door if we go downstairs; neither can we fight off all the Men in this Inn."

"The window is not high," she answered. Legolas nodded. "Glorfindel, come--"

"Yes, I heard," he said briskly.

Legolas backed away from the door and set an arrow to his bow. Glorfindel and Arwen opened the window, which was perhaps twenty feet from the cobbled street below, but it was also sheer, with no vines to grip.

"The roof is closer than the ground," Arwen whispered, as they heard two more pairs of boots come up the stairs. "Stand on this ledge" she took his hand and placed it on the window sill "and I will help you up."

He unsteadily balanced himself, half in and half out of the window. "Go, now!" Glorfindel sprang up and grabbed for where he assumed a ledge would be. One hand caught the shingled rooftop. Arwen grasped his feet and pushed him up, until he was able to pull himself the rest of the way.

"Follow him!" Legolas cried. "They await someone."

Arwen disappeared out the window. Legolas returned his arrow to his quiver and followed seconds behind her. 

"Why do they not come?" Arwen asked. "Surely they do not think we would stay in our room while they gather forces."

Legolas shook his head. "I do not know. Unless...they are waiting for us to move."

"Burn it to the ground!" a shout called out of the darkness in the streets. Torches were lit and cast upon the Inn.

"Asfaloth! Gaernell! Arod!" The horses raced to the side of the Inn, despite the terror of the fire and smoke. But they could not drop forty feet onto their backs without harming them; and even if they could, Glorfindel could not see where to jump. 

Below, they heard someone call out, "Elves!" and arrows were launched at every window, as the flames spread higher.

"Daro, Asfaloth. Cin mil dringa tin naeth, egh daro men. Tiriatham Glorfindel an edh, im gwestam." means: "Stop, Asfaloth. Your love beats back his grief, (yet) you halt us. We will watch Glorfindel for you, I swear."


	6. Into The Fire

Chapter Six: Into The Fire

The inn crackled and groaned. The air around the three Elves waved, distorting the orange and black surrounding them. It was an ironically beautiful image.

An arrow struck the far edge of the roof and stayed, until the fire claimed it, too. There was the clear, sharp sound of glass breaking as windows shattered, and sparks leaped up to the wooden shingles.

Arod had begun to panic. Asfaloth and Gaernell paced back and forth, unable to get close to the burning inn, and unwilling to leave the Elves.

"Their arrows are nearly spent," Legolas said. His tone was not altogether calm, but he was decisive, and reassured. That was comforting.

"What are we to do, then? I trust you have an idea?"

Legolas glanced at her and nodded. "We cannot safely jump to the ground from here; their roads are stone, else I would risk it. The horses cannot help us from here, but the men can." It did not take long for them to understand the prince's meaning.

Glorfindel stiffened, then actually backed away a step. "No."

Legolas looked at him thoughtfully, but was no less determined than he had been before. "I will distract them with my arrows; I see that many of them do not have swords, and those that do are standing at the back."

Arwen nodded, to Legolas's relief. "Glorfindel, come, we must."

"I know we must. I am not so certain your solution is any better than remaining up here," he muttered.

Legolas smiled firmly and drew an arrow. He fired off four of them before he gave Arwen a gentle push, and she and Glorfindel raced forward.

"When? Where is the edge?" Glorfindel cried desperately, fearful of when the solid rooftop would end, giving way to empty air.

"Now!" she shouted, and they leapt off the edge, through a wall of unbearable heat. Flames licked at their clothing, and a bare second later they were dropping through the chilled, windy night air.

Arwen kept a tight hold on Glorfindel's shoulder, hoping to guide him as they fell, so he would land where he was meant to and not on the street.

The crowd was tightly packed, and they could not hear the Elves running, so by the time they could discern the two figures flying at them, it was too late to move away. Twelve men went down, breaking Arwen and Glorfindel's fall.

Gaernell and Asfaloth raced in before the rest of the mob could realize what had happened. The two horses added to the confusion, allowing Legolas to reach them safely.

Arod was only too grateful to get away from the burning building; it was a struggle to keep him from trampling fallen members of the crowd, as the three rode away into the forest.

********

"How far are we?" Glorfindel was the first to speak since they had left the village. 

They had stopped so Legolas could clean out the series of shallow cuts on Arod's neck. He paused to look around and answered, "Perhaps ten leagues out of the village." Legolas checked the slashes again, and was satisfied that they would cause Arod no more harm than they already had. "We should move on, if we can."

Arwen finished untangling glass splinters from Gaernell's long white mane. "Glorfindel, are you well enough to travel?"

"We must get as far from the inn as possible. The sooner we reach Gondor the safer you will be. We ought to hurry." He gripped Asfaloth's reigns and mane tightly, waiting for one of his companions to lead on.

Legolas looked back the way they had come, seeing shadows follow them as they rode.

*********

The night passed slowly and uneventfully, aside from Arod making it a game to see how many times he could swat Legolas with his tail before the Elf would laugh or scold him. Gray morning light came and Arod suddenly stopped, jerked his head back, and pricked his ears towards the soft pre-dawn.

"They are gone again," Glorfindel murmured suddenly, startling his two friends.

"What did you say?" Legolas asked.

"I have heard them for most of the night. When they did not speak, I heard movement, but I cannot identify animals by sound, else I would tell you what else I heard." The fair haired Elf sighed. "It is a relief...I could not help but strain to hear them, and it was more tiring than I should have liked."

"What do you mean?" Arwen demanded, keeping her voice low, either out of reverence for the encouraging dawn or because she grew quieter when angry rather than louder. "What voices do you speak of?"

Glorfindel shifted uncomfortably, something few beings, mortal or immortal, ever saw an Elf do. Especially this one. "Lady Undomiel, I have told you now all there is that I know."

"Very well. But you failed to mention why you waited until now to say something."

"You heard something following us?" Legolas asked.

"Yes, at times," he muttered, looking somewhat miserable with himself. Arwen frowned.

The prince coughed softly. "You will dislike what I have to say, Arwen, but I also know that you would rather hear it than not. I saw something following us ere we left the second time. There are many animals about, and I nearly convinced myself that was all it was, but now I am not so sure." Legolas wondered if the glare she was giving them was one she had developed over the years specifically to stab guilt into the hearts of those who received it, or if all royal Elves had it, somewhere within them.

"I have much respect and much love for both of you, as friends of mine and friends of Aragorn. But let me speak bluntly with you now. I will tolerate no more secrets between us. What we suspect, what we hear, and what we see, will be told to the others. I know we three have each spent more than a year mostly in the company of mortals, but if you fear someone knowing what is said amongst us, then for the love of the Valar, do not use the Common Tongue! Over the course of a year, you would still not have forgotten the language of the Eldar!"

"I believe she has left us with no excuses, Glorfindel," Legolas smiled uneasily. "My deepest apologies, to both of you. It is indeed foolish and dangerous to keep so much to myself."

"I do not mean to put us in danger. My mind wanders of late, and I struggle to remember what I am meant to be doing. But it is a poor excuse. You will know what I know for so long as we journey together."

Arwen nodded. "I am glad."

"We are nearer the Gladden Fields than I thought," Legolas said, as the sun pulled its way over the mountains. "If we are being followed, we may cross to Mirkwood. It would add time to our trek, but it feels long since I have returned to my father, and I would not complain if we must flee there."

Arwen smiled. "I have not passed through your woods in many years, Legolas. I would very much love a visit to the fair Elves of Mirkwood, if we have need of it."

"If we must," Glorfindel said, "But thus far we do not. For now, I suggest we continue south to Gondor."

********

"Wolves," Legolas murmured.

They had traveled all through the day, with a few brief stops, and now they were faced with the problem of where to spend the night. Arwen and Glorfindel were debating this, the blind Elf becoming more and more withdrawn as she tried to spark some enthusiasm in him, while Legolas stood nearby, peering uneasily into the woods.

"Wolves?" Arwen asked.

Legolas kept his eyes trained in the distance. "In geraif aphad ammen. Derir ir derim. Garir tinc rind os tin iaethath, a ir mae medin."

His sudden change into Sindarin startled them. Arwen searched the darkness for Legolas' wolves. She paused, and then pointed. "Tiradin tellen beleg un."

Standing off in the woods, still as the ground it stood on, was a large round-eared cat. Its fur was like soft white gold, set with paler white rosettes. This made it stand out in its dark surroundings; but the fact that it had not been noticed before was a sign that it was not as easy to track as it would seem.

About its neck was the same polished metal collar the wolves wore.

The wolves moved closer to Glorfindel, for it is in their nature to seek out the most vulnerable in a group. Asfaloth swiftly placed himself between the pack and the Elf ; Legolas pulled Glorfindel into the center, calling to Asfaloth as he did. A wolf's jaws could easily snap the bones in a horse's leg, even those of an Elvish horse.

"Legolas!" He turned to Arwen, and found the white panther closer than any of the wolves had dared come.

Their eyes met as Legolas reached for his bow, and time slowed. It was only for a moment, but in that period, the wolves drew nearer still, at last close enough to bite at Arod and Gaernell, who were cut off from the circle by three or four of the strong gray wolves.

It took seconds for Legolas to break away from the panther's stare, string an arrow, and shoot the wolf out of the air who had dared attack a horse of Rohan. The remaining wolves darted away, and the horses galloped to Asfaloth's side.

Legolas could keep the wolves and the panther at bay as long as his arrows lasted, but he doubted he had enough to kill them all. He had his knife, and Arwen hers, but to protect the three horses as well as Glorfindel would be almost impossible with only two daggers. 

Not far off, his sharp ears caught the sound of hoof beats.

"In geraif aphad ammen. Derir ir derim. Garir tinc rind os tin iaethath, a ir mae medin." means "The wolves follow us. They stop when we stop. They have metal circles around their necks, and they are well fed."

"Tiradin tellen beleg un." means "I (am) see only a great beast."

And, because as a child I was completely obsessed with wolves, I'll add here that real wolves don't actually attack people, and consider yourself lucky if you've seen one in the wild. But the wolves in my story are trained to attack, heheh, so they will.


	7. Vel

The three horses and the three Elves had formed a tight circle, protection against the numerous beasts stalking them in the woods. The daylight grew stronger, finally showing them their enemy. 

The wolves were all roughly the same color, which made it difficult to keep track of how many there were. It was probably a part of the reason they were chosen by whomever had sent them.

"I hear hooves," Arwen whispered. Though they had agreed to speak in Elvish when danger was near, speaking in Sindarin was more likely to draw other Elves into danger.

Glorfindel turned an ear to the sound; as he listened, his fair face grew pale with fear. Then, "Noro! Noro si! Avo dirich adel! Drego!"

Immediately, Arwen began helping him onto Asfaloth's back, as Legolas kept watch for an attack, bow ready, arrow strung. As soon as his companions were prepared, he sprang onto Arod, and followed Arwen and Gaernell, running alongside Asfaloth and Glorfindel.

With a chorus of snarls, the wolves came after them. But Legolas was more worried about the large white creature he had seen; wolves hunted as a pack, requiring each others' help to bring down animals as large as a horse. The panther was lithe enough to bring any one of them down on its own.

"Arwen! Na nin adar!" Legolas called. The dark haired Queen murmured to Gaernell, who veered instantly East, toward Mirkwood.

"It is in sight," Legolas whispered to Arod. "U hae, nin mellon."

The deep greens of Mirkwood flowed into view, foreboding and impenetrable... But not to Legolas, the prince who had long called the trees his home. But no more. The sea now called his name, ever glittering in his thoughts. 

Still, when the dark land of his birth was a near, beautiful sight, his heart lifted, and Arod's with it. The three horses pressed forward with renewed speed.

"Tawarwaith en Calentawar ardh, telio, maetho!" Legolas called, as Arod, Gaernell, and Asfaloth came under the shade of the woods.

One or two wolves entered, and were shot before they took three steps. 

As Arod was slowing to a stop, Asfaloth turned, shouldering the smaller horse aside. Arod reared indignantly, nearly throwing Legolas. It didn't take long for him to calm Arod, but when he did, he saw the mischievous, vengeful glare Asfaloth gave him ere he trotted after Arwen and Gaernell. Legolas sighed and thought better of dismounting. 

"Legolas! Return to King Thranduil, quickly, send archers!" He looked up at Collerusc, a Silvan Elf born in the same year as he. Collerusc motioned to the field, where the wolves had gathered, just out of range. "Never have I seen so many wolves together at once, without Orcs to ride them!" The Silvan Elf was clearly eager and anxious, despite himself.

"I shall return swiftly," Legolas told him.

"Nay, take your time, they amuse me." Collerusc never did tire of watching. Above all else, he enjoyed spying; of course, fighting what he spied upon was a close second.

Legolas urged Arod away, deeper into the woods.

  
  


Thranduil smiled as he watched his youngest son gallop to him. The prince had become very fond of the Rohan horse, Arod. Thranduil had offered him one of the swifter, longer lived Elven horses, but after some thought, Legolas had refused. 

Originally, he was meant to give Arod back to King Eomer, and he had, but he had also insisted he would rather walk than so quickly replace the sweet, playful horse. Eomer, when he learned of this bond, had returned Arod to Legolas as a gift.

When they had seen each other last, Legolas was passing through with Gimli. The son of Gloin. A dwarf. Legolas was stubborn, but level headed as well, and he surprised the Elves he lived with frequently, through his pranks or imaginative ideas. But Thranduil had never been so surprised as when he saw the dwarf ride in with his son.

"Father! I need archers, on the western border!" Twenty guards came at his call. From the border, they could hear the sounds of battle. "Stay, Arod, keep our King company." He dismounted, and climbed the trees with the guards, quickly disappearing from sight. 

Arod watched him go, and then, true to Legolas' request, the horse went to Thranduil and would not leave his side.

  
  


Among the wolves and Elves battling, men in dark, or even no armor, rushed in, fighting where they could, or adding to confusion when there were none to attack. Smoke poured from leather bags the dark warriors threw or dropped, obscuring the archers' vision.

When the reinforcements arrived, they began to retreat. 

"Collerusc, what has happened?"

"I know not, my prince! Only that they retreat now, fortunately!" The smoke began to clear, and the enemy had completely left Mirkwood. Many wolves lay dead, but no men, and no Elves.

"Galtaur? Galtaur! Where is he?" Collerusc had left the trees, and had joined several other guards. Legolas could not see Collerusc's brother, Galtaur, anywhere. Nor could he find Baranghen or Rochlim or three others he knew besides.

"They are gone," someone said quietly. Collerusc took a minute to ponder this, and then he ran for the fields. Legolas caught him.

"No! No! You cannot go alone! We must tell my father and gather forces." The prince's bright gray eyes searched the other Elves. "Am I understood? We will report to the King."

He was followed without a word.

  
  


Thranduil was found in his massive royal halls, speaking with Arwen and Glorfindel. Exploring the stone walls not far behind the King, at odds with the grandeur of the place, was a lean red horse with a golden mane, the only one of that color in all of Mirkwood.

Thranduil looked up as his son entered, allowing a grateful look to cross his face. "Legolas."

"Telio, Arod," Legolas murmured. Surprised at the Elf's reaction to what normally would have brought peals of laughter, Arwen turned and looked at him. Arod sensed the grim mood of the prince and came to him immediately.

Thranduil knew Legolas best, and so was the most concerned. "What is it?"

"We are missing several of our people, Father. They were lost in the battle; nay, they are not dead. Men joined the fight, on the side of the wolves. None were slain, though some had not armor. The wolves leapt in the way, taking our arrows for their masters."

"How many Elves are lost?"

"Six."

Thranduil shook his head sadly. "And they are not the first...now the toll is eleven Silvan Elves that have been captured in little over a month. The first were three who were journeying West. I sent two to help search, yet those two, also, disappeared. And now the enemy becomes more bold. They sought even you."

"You have the aid of Gondor," Arwen said quietly. "Say only that you desire it, and we shall help."

Thranduil considered her a moment. "I desire it, and it is needed by more than the dwellers of Mirkwood. I fear the Elves over whom I have stewardship are not the only ones to have been taken away."

"Gondor does not know of what has happened," Legolas said. "And the longer we remain here, the harder it will be to arrive there safely."

"We, my son?" Thranduil frowned slightly.

"Yea, King Thranduil," Legolas met his gaze. "For I was asked to accompany them."

"Few are the times that I have bested you in an argument, Legolas, and I perceive that you shall not give in easily this time. Yet my heart bids me to keep you here."

"There is little good I can do here. I gave my word that I would escort them to Gondor, and to that I will hold true."

Thranduil stared at him, heart breaking. "You gave your word, and I would not have you break it. But neither will I have you taken by these men."

Legolas moved forward, and embraced him. "Then I give you my word that I will not be. When I return, it will be with the forces of Gondor. I have seen you but little over this past year. I plan to come again, and I will bring Gimli as well." Legolas was rewarded with a smile at the mention of the dwarf. 

Reluctantly, the prince pulled back. "I am reminded of something he told me, a week ago; which is that the shorter a farewell lasts, the shorter the time apart is. I stall because I have missed you, Father, but what he said is true. We must go."

"Darech band," Thranduil said, addressing all three but looking at Legolas.

********

"Legolas." 

Legolas was finishing packing Arod with the blankets and food his father had given them for the trip. He barely caught the faint, low voice between the forest sounds. "Glorfindel?" 

The Elf's milky, sightless eyes made not even the attempt to turn in Legolas' direction. "I do not wish to go with you. I slow you, and this journey was for Arwen and Aragorn, and now for the safety of the Elves." Now he did turn more to the prince. "And I had no desire for travel from the beginning. I went with you to satisfy Lord Elrond."

Legolas had suspected this; it was the reason he had advised Elrond to order Glorfindel to go. He shook his head and slipped his new stock of arrows into his quiver. "So now you have found a suitable reason to stay behind?"

"I would not remain in Mirkwood." He sounded tired.

"Glorfindel, you know that were Elrond here, he would tell you to press on."

"Perhaps not. He does not know of the threat that lies beyond your borders. He would not risk Arwen's safety, not even for I."

"But you do not threaten her safety. Perhaps in losing the keen sight of Elves, you have gained something else. You heard things long before Arwen and I could; at times before we could see them." Legolas watched him desperately, waiting for a reaction. "We will need you, if we are to be hiding from wolves, and all else they have."

"And what else do they have, Legolas? Try to understand this, I cannot aid you in a fight! If it pleases you, I will stand here, and imagine those things you describe to me." Legolas was surprised by the tone of Glorfindel's voice.

"Glorfindel." Arwen had seen the two Elves' conversation, but had waited to interrupt. "Hear me. Much has been taken from you. Neither I, nor Legolas, nor any other Elf, not even the Orcs who once were Elves, can conceive of it. But I am your friend, and no circumstance and no foul creature, not Sauron, nor even Morgoth himself, will ever change it. Ever have I respected you. Do not demean yourself so."

"Demean myself?" he clenched Asfaloth's bridle. "Many songs have been sung about me, in years before either of you were born...and I would leave it that way. I cannot wish new songs to be arranged about me, this time for the scars the Orcs adorned me with!"

"Those are not the songs I would pass on to my children, Glorfindel," Arwen told him. "Your greatness is not forgotten in the least. Each day, you may add to it."

"I do not fear my greatness being diminished," Glorfindel cried.

"Then what?"

"I fear naught that is here." He turned, leaning his back against Asfaloth.

Legolas could see they weren't likely to get anything more out of him. "Then come with us. There is still much you can do for the other peoples of Middle Earth, and we for you."

Silently, Glorfindel pulled himself onto Asfaloth's back. He slipped twice, but Arwen and Legolas knew he would rather fail several times, finding out whether or not he could do it on his own, than simply let them do it for him.

********

Many scouts were sent out from Mirkwood, ordered to keep to the trees and return the moment they saw a wolf or one of the dark-clad men. The enemy was reported at the Northeast, and again to the West; Gondor was to the South and the East, and so it was decided safe enough to begin the journey.

There was worry and grief in the hearts of all the Elves of Mirkwood as they watched the departure; they held their prince closely in their hearts, and they had loved Arwen since she entered their kingdom; and of Glorfindel they knew many wonderful things.

Each was wary and silent as they rode. The birds chirped between the trees, and the three Elves heard them not.

********

"Have you readied them for travel?"

"Two were troublesome, but they lie still now."

"Spread out. Send word to the North; I want them to move East. Continue watching the roads." His eyes were soft, deceptively gentle, but Vel Delanir was very far from that image. No one can keep up an act forever, and Vel was no exception. Few things could spark the steel cruelty of his soul, but Ral was certain he had found at least some of those.

Not by personal experience, of course. Had that been the case, there was no doubt in the lieutenant's mind that he would have burned in one of Vel's 'fire pits' long ago. No, he had watched others make the mistake of betraying their spouse...or lying...or stealing. Or, ironically, killing; because in turn, Vel had them executed.

Perhaps executed was too kind a word.

Vel was, strangely, a fair leader more often than not. It was for fear of his own soul, which he still had high pride in, that Ral had given up trying to concoct reasons for Vel's actions. The point was that they always leveled out. 

Ral was, in spite of himself, morbidly excited to see where Vel's fascination with the Eldar race would lead. His only true hope was that he would live long enough to see it through.

Vel looked sidelong at him and said, "You will take these here up over the Grey Mountains, set up a camp, and wait for the rest of us."

No questions. Not with the image of the last 'visitor' who questioned Vel still fresh in the young lieutenant's mind. But the crows he had seen...so many crows...feasting in the forest that was not a forest...

"Go, Ral. Wait here any longer and perhaps they ought to drag you. Tell me, would that get you moving?"

"No, Master Vel, it would not. I go swifter on my own feet." Ral swallowed hard, against the bile rising in his throat as he fought those images.

Vel laughed. "Keep things in order while you wait. And I warn you, do not let them sway you. Beautiful they may be, but they are wise, and they will use whatever advantage you give them."

"They will not lead me astray." Ral stood tensely, waiting for his nerves to settle. Vel did not look back, but he and eight of his favored riders disappeared, leaving a cloud of dust in their wake.

Ral looked around once, for...Gamphall, that was what it was being called now. Gamphall, whose newest name had come from its own victims. A predator with nearly the same trail of thought as Vel himself. 

At least, that was Ral's explanation for why Vel allowed Gamphall to wander where it pleased, while any man under Vel's flag was kept practically in chains.

Foolish jealousy aside, Gamphall was a good omen, and Ral wished it would come ere he dragged so many people over any Grey Mountains. But the white panther did not see fit to grace them with its presence. Ral was stuck with wolves, Elves, and townsfolk.

He wasn't surprised.   
  


Gamphall: it's a name I finally decided on, when I asked my brother to describe a panther without the words "cat" or "fur". It means Clawed Shadow.

"Noro! Noro si! Avo dirich adel! Drego!" means "Run! Run now! Don't look behind you! Flee!"

"Arwen! Na nin adar!" means "Arwen! To my father!" "U hae, nin mellon." means "Not far, my friend."

"Tawarwaith, telio, maetho!" means "Silvan Elves, come, fight!"

"Darech band" means "Stay (remain) safe."


	8. Morning Reflections

"Menel law mithrennin sin medui tad oer," Legolas said. The sun was not yet risen, but for that he was grateful. It was somehow relaxing, and refreshing, to wait.

There had been too little time for Arwen to appreciate a sunrise, between her wedding and then caring for Glorfindel in Rivendell. And there, faced with the impending loss of her father, it had been even harder to enjoy the beauty of them.

The sky this morning was an intense night blue, when it should have been gray, and blank as a painter's canvas. 

"Gaernell can enni. Telithon dan len ab buin sen," Arwen said quietly. She turned and made her way down the rocky hill.

They had found a small shelter of sorts in which to spend the night; it was a windfall, most likely created by a Ranger over the past winter. Almost an hour ago, the three had awakened together and climbed up to see above the tree line.

Glorfindel was seated, and he faced East where the sun would come, but Legolas could not tell if he slept.

Silently, the younger Elf turned West. Gimli's colony was there, and Legolas wished he were up higher, so that he could see it, distant and flourishing. It was a small reminder of other things that were West...

When he let his mind wander, Legolas felt almost as if he were there. On the beach, where he could smell the wind and sea, where he was watching the cool green-white foam as it slid across the sand and circled itself around his feet. The gulls, too, were there; mocking him, or begging, it was hard to tell with those strange birds who dwelt on the edge of the world.

And if he dared, he would allow himself to gaze across the distance and see what awaited him.

"That is perilous, Legolas," a soft voice pulled him back, before it was unbearable. The younger Elf blinked, in an effort to clear his mind and return to the present. "Try not to let it rule your thoughts, unless you plan to make the journey soon."

"Are my thoughts so obvious?" Legolas wondered, trying to keep his eyes trained on the East.

Glorfindel smiled slightly. "They were not difficult to guess, caun neth. Many Elves long for the ocean the same as you."

The questions this brought died ere they reached Legolas' lips, but they echoed in his mind.

Did Glorfindel, then, still long for the Sea? For surely he had at some point. And where had he been, or rather, where had he gone, after he fought the Balrog? Long years had Glorfindel been buried...

If Glorfindel gave up his life here, then never would he return. And if he stayed, never would he see what Legolas had when Aragorn and Gimli and he had sailed to battle. 

And what did that mean? Had the Orcs taken Glorfindel's wish to cross the Sea? If they had, what did it leave him?

"You pity me now?" Glorfindel asked. 

Legolas frowned. "I grieve for your suffering. If that is the same as pity, then yes. I worry for you, as do all your friends."

"You should not."

"But I have reason to. Tell me that we do not!"

"Your concern is recognized, and appreciated. But it changes nothing! How many times must I insist upon this?" 

The horizon became a deep red-violet. Glorfindel wore an embittered scowl as he said, "I tried, once, to see if a deal could be made with the Valar. I wondered. But they will not help, or cannot, or perhaps I have nothing to barter with, nothing they wish of me. I shall wander in darkness. Even for the deeds I have done, I still shall live with this cursed hollowness! And I cannot understand why, Legolas, why I must go on this way when perhaps it could have been stopped!"

A sliver of yellow-orange stood out behind the black mountains. 

Glorfindel's expression had changed, but it was no relief to Legolas. "It is not only the loss of my sight that weighs on my heart. I see no beauty; but neither do I imagine it. Nothing is the same. It all feels, and smells, and sounds more different than I thought possible. I hear no music...the warmth of the sun, as it rises or sets or travels from horizon to horizon...it scorches me, as though the sun loathes me now. And the moon is cold, when its presence once hummed in my ears, murmuring of unity and peace to come."

"I know not what to say," Legolas told him hoarsely, and placed his hand on Glorfindel's shoulder. There was nothing else he could do. "Except that the songs are still there, and the Orcs can not take you from it; they have not." They fell into silence.

Legolas looked up at the coloring sky and said, "It may be that one day you will hear the world as you once did. Things now are not as they once were. It was even sung that 'he will not return to walk our fields, great Elf of Gondolin, until our world has changed.' So perhaps you have more to adjust to than the loss of your sight."

"Perhaps." Glorfindel kept his face turned to the East.

"I must ask you something. When we were surrounded in the woods, what was it that told you the horsemen were the masters of the wolves?"

"I did not know the wolves answered to them, not at first. It was faint, but the riders had with them a sound...one I had heard but twice in my years. At last I realized what it was." Glorfindel lost his set composure, for one cruel moment. "In place of golden bells...they have adorned their horses with bones."

********

"Shall we leave?" Arwen asked as she climbed up the hill. "...Legolas?"

"Yes, Lady Arwen. Unless I am mistaken, we are both ready." The prince's tone was distracted.

Arwen frowned. "Is there something I ought to know?"

Legolas turned to her. "Would the sound of bones, fashioned in place of bells, be familiar to you?"

Arwen thought for a minute and shook her head. "No, I can't say that it is...where have you heard such a thing?"

"When I was among the Orcs," Glorfindel broke in. "They did not use them; they had not even a single horse with them, and Orcs resent any music. But I heard it in the distance, when we had stopped for two overseers to finish their argument." The golden haired Elf winced and went on, "The second time was after we came across an old grave. Perhaps they sought a treasure they thought would be buried with that man, I do not know. But they forced me to dig him from the earth. When I was made to open the lid, two Orcs pulled the skeleton from his coffin and took what they could find. That was when I again heard bones striking one another."

His companions stared. There was nothing for them to say, even if they could have formed words. 

********

"Gamphall." A farmer had whispered it, but Ral still caught it, and he smiled at the sound.

"Where is it, old man?" The farmer didn't answer. Ral frowned, a bit irritated by this. He tried again, speaking slower and -- hopefully -- clearer, without his thick accent. "Where is Gamphall?"

The farmer pointed behind him. Ral cursed the panther in his native tongue and turned, slowly. Vel would find no fault in Gamphall slaying someone if they startled it.

The golden-white creature was, instead, sniffing at the feet of the prisoners. Many of them had been injured, not badly, but Ral was worried that the exceptional scent of Elvish blood would prove a tempting treat.

The Elves stayed still and it lost interest. It turned to Ral, displaying whatever it had carried all the way to him. The lieutenant stepped forward and reached to take it ; Gamphall pulled it back before his fingers could brush the silver chain.

Ral cursed it again, feeling like a fool, and waited for the panther to drop it. He took back any ill feelings towards Vel's pet when at last he got his hands on the silver pendant.

"Do you know how far it has been?" he asked the only other member of Vel's group that had been allowed to go with him.

"No, Master Ral, perhaps as far as Rohan?"

"I doubt it. Even a po'icharl --I mean, a gamphall-- can't move that far that fast. But you were on the right track, for this has the crest of the Rohirrim on it." Ral held it up to the sun, ignoring the sticky blood on the chain. "The Riders of Rohan are wandering out of their land. We must be careful. With any luck, it will be some time before they notice Gamphall's victim is missing. Let's go." He threw it in Gamphall's direction and forced himself to be optimistic about the trek over the Grey Mountains.

  
  


"Arod?" Legolas placed a hand on the horse's neck, and pulled it back coated with the sweat of fear. They had been riding for more than two hours when Arod had stopped short, trembling with an unknown terror.

The Elven horses, too, were uneasy, but not nearly the same as Arod. The horse of Rohan neighed softly; it was then that Legolas' keen eyes saw what distressed Arod so.

Numbly, he slid off Arod's back, hoping to go alone and spare Arod any more sorrow or fear. 

"Horses," Glorfindel commented. Legolas and Arwen turned, to find three of the Rohirrim galloping along the road.

Legolas walked out of the forest's cover to meet them, and Arwen followed. The riders stopped when they were near enough to speak to the Elves.

"Hail, riders of King Eomer!" Arwen smiled at them.

"Queen Arwen, and Prince Legolas!"

"I wish that we could stay a little longer, Queen of Gondor, but we are members of a search party." The oldest spoke, but he clearly regretted having to break off their meeting.

"Then I offer you my deepest sympathy," Legolas told them sadly, "If I have found he whom you seek."

"We search for one of our newest riders, Eolin. He was separated from us two nights ago." When Legolas' reaction was worse than the young Rider had hoped, he added urgently, "He will be riding a black horse, and he will have a new helm, much like mine..." he trailed off.

"Take us to him," the other Rider said, grimly steeling himself for whatever was to come.

Above them, the clouds swirled and churned, pushed against each other by sudden bursts of wind. The sun fought vainly to be seen behind the greyness, finding brief holes through which to shine, only to be smothered again later.

In one of nature's crueler ironies, the gruesome scene of Eolin's death was the one bathed in ghostly, golden light when the three riders and the prince of Mirkwood came upon it. The four stood on the edge of the sunlight ; the wind had died.

"He is Eolin." The oldest Rider of the Mark spoke, and at his words, the youngest gave a strangled cry and ran forward.

Legolas turned his face away from the young man's grief, but everywhere he looked, he saw only dark blood, where it had stained the plant life and soaked the ground black. 

Eolin's horse had been slain as well; it lay near him. Eolin, in death, was still straining his hand towards his shining spear.

********

"What is this?" Vel reached down, and Gamphall dropped a silver chain into his hand. Vel smiled slightly as he inspected it.

Gamphall instinctively went for its victim's throats. Vel had done everything possible to correct it, but to no avail. At last he had decided that, if Gamphall would not help him take live prisoners, it would be taught the next best thing. Vel learned something in doing so ; when one stopped fighting instinct, everything went smoother.

And now, anything Gamphall happened to find around its victims' necks, came back to Vel. Thus far, he had an impressive collection of gems, leather ceremonial bags, medicine pouches, and now a crest from Rohan.

Not that he could ignore this warning. "Riders of the Mark are closer than I thought," Vel said conversationally. "We will move North and East. You two" he motioned to two men, older than he by perhaps seven years, "Head South, one more Eastward and the other West. Scout them out, be sure they don't follow us."

With that, Vel turned, pushed a few horses from the watering trough, and allowed Gamphall to drink undisturbed. It had, after all, been several days since Vel had last seen it, and it must have been running more than it was accustomed to in order to carry messages from one group to the other. When it was finished, it turned and vanished back the way it had come. 

As an afterthought, Vel slipped Eolin's crest on, over his own family's golden medallion.   
  
  
  


Author's Notes: Burning_Tyger, guess what I found! I know how frustrating it is to battle with lotr.net...especially if you're like me and you have *very* limited Internet time, but now there's an easier way! Go to http://orlandomultimedia.cjb.net (You'll see! Tons of stuff, and guess who welcomes you there every time!)

Anyways, back to the story, non? Right-o then. First, that whole I'm-addicted-to-action thing is getting in the way of what I'm trying to do with this story, so future updates can be slow in coming. On top of that, it may get a little gruesome, as I go deeper into Vel's character (if you can't guess who he's based on by the end of this story, I'll tell you in the last chapter, whenever that is). I think I only rated this PG, but I'll probably have to change it later. I can't rate ANYTHING realistically, and I'm being more free with this story than *any* of my others. *shrug* sorry in advance if it bothers you! (I hate when that happens when I read stories, so I thought I'd just...ok ok ok! I'm shutting up, I promise!) You wanted the translations more anyway, right? Here ya go then:

"Menel law mithrennin sin medui tad oer" means "The sky has not been gray these last two mornings".

"Gaernell can enni. Telithon dan len ab buin sen." means "Gaernell calls to me. I will come back to you after I see to him."

"Caun neth" means "Young Prince"


	9. The White City

Author's Notes: Chapters, while slow in coming, will be longer. I started dreaming with the people in my dreams speaking (some) Sindarin! So, guess what that means? Yup! More Elvish in the chapters (after this one)! Arentcha glad? With my other LoTR short story done, the plot bunnies are back attacking this one with a vengeance, so it WILL be finished! Someday.... 

  
  


Ral trusted Vel's judgement. In his time as first lieutenant, he had seen Vel's schemes pull through - no matter how questionable they first appeared. But that was Ral.

Sen kept himself from voicing his doubts; or rather, his fear kept him from it. "Master Vel, you wish us to stop looking for the escaped Elves?" He hoped that it sounded more incredulous than mocking.

The captain's soft, dark eyes turned to him. "Yes, for the third time. And yes, I still order you to go to Gondor, Sen. Deliver this message to their King; I invite him to attend a banquet in the forest of Olde Laskan." Vel smiled, ironically. "If Gamphall gets to the Lost Elves, so be it. But they are not our priority now, Gondor is. If they become involved in this, heads will roll. Now then, Rohan will have found their Rider, and will be on the lookout for Gamphall, or whatever they assume killed the soldier. Be cautious."

Sen shook his head. "Master Vel, I must protest. A 'feast' in Olde Laskan will undoubtedly bring Gondor against us!"

"If he accepts, ask him to come with an honor guard of up to six. Tell him to come as soon as he is able, which will, if luck is on our side, be within a few days after you have given him the invitation. His new Queen, as we speak, is coming to him. She ought to be there by the time you arrive. I expect he will leave her in charge, but we shall see."

"It is madness to tempt him this way!" Sen cried in frustration, for Vel had blatantly ignored him. 

The captain's eyes flashed, reminiscent of lightning in thunderclouds. "I extend the invitation to you, Sen. I do hope you won't be late."

Sen lowered himself to the ground immediately. "Master Vel, I apologize. Forgive me."

"I will consider it. But do not overlook my grace when you receive it, undeserving of it as you are. And do not be late to the banquet."

Sen, shaking almost visibly, rose, bowed, and went off.

********

Eolin's body was taken back to Rohan, but the horse they buried where it had been slain. The three Riders insisted that the Elves go with them, and they were quick to accept.

The road was long still; it was longer to go to Gondor, but that is not to say it was very much shorter to Rohan. Eolin's body was a burden on them, though none would ever have found it in their heart to complain. Respect for the dead runs deep in men, and deeper still in Elves, for the concept of death is a mysterious thing to the fair race.

Glorfindel rode with his hood pulled low. The men did not comment, and they never saw the cruel scars or his haunting, pale eyes.

When their paths split, the Elves stopped to watch them go, and sang for the many kind and small accomplishments of Eolin. When the song ended, they stayed in a moment of silence, as the Riders continued on to Rohan.

"The dark Host of Mordor is no longer a threat to us; yet still we mourn one who has met a violent fate," Legolas said.

"Peace is never complete, Legolas," Arwen replied sadly.

"That is not true," Glorfindel answered, and his tone lay somewhere between gruff and simply full of conviction. "There is such a peace that cannot be comprehended... only glimpses of it are ever see in this world. The mists of earthly cares obscure it." But then Glorfindel fell silent.

Arwen turned her gaze south again, to the Riders. "We must move on. Gondor is not far now."

  
  


As the white city, the heart of Gondor, came into view, Legolas noted with some bemusement that Arwen's face was never without the patient, joyful smile one has when they find themself in love.

Her eyes shone when they met Legolas', and he could not help but return her happiness. "I had not realized how long it has been since I last saw Aragorn. Let us hurry," he suggested.

At a word, Arod and Gaernell bore them on at a gallop. Behind them, Glorfindel lowered his head and reluctantly bid Asfaloth to follow them.

A large crowd had gathered at the gates to see their Queen's return. A loud cry went up in the city of Gondor when the three Elves rode past; trumpets declared their passage to the world, and everywhere there was great joy.

But no greeting was as warm as that which they received from Aragorn. It had been three months since he was wed to Arwen Undomiel, and in that time he had seen her but little before she was called back to Rivendell.

"Glorfindel," said Legolas, "Come with me. We will care for the horses and allow our friends to catch up with each other."

Aragorn looked up from Arwen in surprise. "Glorfindel? I had not heard you would be coming out here! I wondered who you were; yet the day is warm, why do you wear your cloak?"

Quickly, Legolas spoke up. "Gaernell, telio ah men." Arwen's horse turned and followed them away. Legolas looked back at the King and Queen. "We will explain later; or rather, Glorfindel will explain, when he is ready."

Arwen watched them go; then, putting an arm around her husband's waist, they two entered their castle together.

  
  


Glorfindel groaned as he slid off of Asfaloth's back. "I am afraid, Legolas, that I'm no longer suited for such long rides."

"Truly? You, Glorfindel of Gondolin, never separated from his steed; you are saddle-sore?"

"Do not rub it in, son of Thranduil. I do know where you will be spending the night." Glorfindel placed a hand on Asfaloth's neck; then, hand over hand, he traced upward until he found the bridle and began to unbuckle it. "Man annen sen erinich?" Asfaloth rubbed against him, once it was off, and Glorfindel gently scratched along the bridle lines. "Ha rhibich, im gulich."

"Do you need a brush?" Legolas asked. He had taken one already, to groom Arod. Glorfindel nodded, and the prince handed him one obligingly.

Asfaloth's mane and tale had been neglected in Glorfindel's absence, as anyone who tried to groom him was likely to limp away with large bruises wherever the Elven horse happened to set his hooves down, or where his teeth found an arm or leg.

Arod laid his head into Legolas' chest, and nearly pushed him over. Legolas laughed. He began to comb out Arod's pale mane, and Arod stretched out his nose and took a lock of the Elf's fine hair in his mouth. 

Glorfindel turned his head towards the stable door. 

Arod took the brush from Legolas' hand, when the prince had managed to free his hair and keep it away from the horse. Then Legolas had to chase him around the stalls; though every so often, Arod would whirl around and chase the Elf.

"I thought I heard..." after a moment, Glorfindel shook his head and resumed working the burs out of Asfaloth's long silver mane.

  
  


"A messenger is here to see you, Your Highness," a servant announced.

Aragorn frowned; Arwen said, "I will change and unpack." Aragorn kissed her brow and then followed the servant down the opposite hall.

A tall man, dressed in a plain beige shirt and dark riding breeches, stood in the main hall, looking as if he were afraid to touch the very floor. "Hail, Master...ah, King Elessar." He bowed, but it was an awkward gesture, as if done in such a way he had never attempted before.

"Welcome, Herald of...?"

"Laskan, King Elessar. I am Sen Kivol, of Laskan. My master, Vel Ptens has sent me with an invitation; he wishes you to attend a banquet."

"Laskan?"

"Yes, King Elessar. Not long ago, it was no more than a principality. A year ago, the sovereign prince was killed. Master Vel assumed responsibility. Do you accept?"

The directness was somewhat of a surprise. "Where is this banquet to be held?"

"In the forests outside of Gancuron, King Elessar. But you need only go as far as Olde Laskan. If you accept, transportation will be provided wherever else you wish to go. For you and an Honor Guard of up to six men."

"Tell your master that I accept."

"Come as soon as you may. Gancuron is two days' ride North and East, if you have never heard of it, I would hardly be surprised-"

"I have heard of it," Aragorn informed him calmly, in stark contrast to Sen's nervousness. "I will leave with my Guard in one week."

"Good, good. I will go then, and see you again in the Forest." With another stiff bow, Sen turned and hurried out the door.

*****

"Do you plan on joining us for supper, Glorfindel?" Arwen asked, as she searched the room that had been prepared for the Elf. Glorfindel pulled his green cloak off, but then seemed to realize he did not know where to hang it, so he folded it, and held it.

"I am well enough here, Lady Undomiel. I desire rest more than a meal."

"You are in good company, Glorfindel. It would not be complete without you." But in his opaque eyes, she saw the stubbornness that Elrond alone had been able to force into a compromise.

"I respectfully decline. But Estel - Aragorn -- I know has missed you terribly. Go to him; think not for my affairs."

  
  


Arwen forced away an impatient sigh. "I hope that you reconsider. Supper is in three hours hence, in the main dining room." Shaking her head, she turned and slipped out the door.

After it had shut, Glorfindel tentatively stretched out an arm, feeling for the bed, a desk, or even simply a chair. When he found nothing in his reach, he took a step forward and tried again, and then again, until step by step he found the large velvet covered bed.

  
  


Legolas and Aragorn were speaking as old friends, touring the castle and reviewing the modifications Aragorn and Arwen had made since they had taken the Throne. Legolas looked over, hearing Arwen descend the stairs, though her footfall was too soft even for Aragorn to hear.

Up above them, they heard a dull thump; Legolas and Aragorn both looked up at the ceiling, and then down. Arwen stood there now, also looking where they were. She closed her eyes a moment, and when she opened them she began to walk towards them.

Legolas moved towards the stairs; Arwen said, "No, Legolas. He will not come." The fair prince looked back up at the ceiling doubtfully. "He is not hurt. The things in his room are too soft to leave more than a small bruise, and the carpets are thick."

Aragorn watched the two Elves as they regarded one another; at last, Legolas nodded and turned back to the King. "He will not come down?" Aragorn asked, unable to keep the bafflement from his voice.

"No. And I did not see that arguing with him would persuade him otherwise."

"Well," Aragorn said after a moment of consideration. "I think that if I do not go to him before I leave, I may never speak with him again." He strode easily down the hall, and then up the stairs.

Legolas and Arwen smiled in turn.

  
  


Glorfindel was roused by a few short raps on his chamber door. "Enter," he called, in tones that seemed too soft for one of the Eldar.

Aragorn came; the darkness in which Glorfindel lived was somehow charged by the power he carried, which few ever saw.

Glorfindel rose; he had been seated on the bed, with his back against the wall. He strained his ears for any sound of the King, while managing to look at ease. But he did not know that he faced away from the King, and his acting skills were for naught.

"Arwen has told me you won't come to the evening meal. I was surprised that you came, Glorfindel; it feels long since we last spoke. Legolas says you three faced wolves together, and were it not for you, you may not have escaped. For that, I owe you more than I can ever repay."

"Nay, my friend, you owe me nothing. It was my duty to protect those in the House of Elrond, and the rest of my kindred. I did, if anything, too little, and I may have placed them in danger."

Aragorn shook his head. "You speak too harshly of yourself, Glorfindel. But if you still feel thus, then I will take advantage of your debt. I demand to know why you sought to avoid us, your friends."

"Yea, you are my friend; I am sorry I led you to believe I am avoiding you."

"What else was I to assume? Arwen and Legolas will not share whatever it is you hide, and even if I were to pressure them, they would not say, honorable and loyal as they are! Yet I would believe, after our years of friendship, that you will tell me freely."

With a bitter scoff, Glorfindel turned to him, and as it was with Legolas, the light (this time from the window rather than a fire) shone against the Orcs' scars. "I do not seek to avoid you, Estel! Rather, I wish to be alone; to contemplate what I will."

"You can't blame them for worrying where your thoughts will stray. Deny that you have, in the darkest hours, wished to retire from this world, and I will call you a liar." Aragorn's words were blunt, though earnest. Coming from a friend, they had less sting, and greater force.

"I do not deny it. I admit that, in this very hour, I reflected on that wish... But my time is not yet come." 

"Do not be hasty to act when you think that time is upon you, Glorfindel. Any life is a gift, but to have it immortal...do not surrender it easily."

When Glorfindel made no answer (though he appeared to be pondering Aragorn's words), the King said, "Will you now reconsider the invitation?"

"I will," the Elf promised. "In fact, I have. I will be down in a few hours; that is when the meal begins, isn't it?"

Aragorn smiled. "It is. I look forward to that time, my friend, but now I will leave you in peace, unless you wish to join Legolas for the rest of a tour?"

"No, I would like to rest a few hours more before we eat. Cenithan edh ennas."

  
  
  
  


"Telio ah men." means "Come with us." 

"Man annen sen erinich?" means "How long has this been on you?" 

"Ha rhibich, im gulich" means "It itches you, I know."

"Cenithan edh ennas." means "I will see you there."


	10. The Banquet In The Treeless Forest

Glorfindel carefully felt his way down the stairs. He was still as soundless as he'd ever been, but it was awkward for him. He supposed it would probably appear very comical to the servants, if any of them were to see. But he heard them at work several rooms off, and none were heading to the stairwell.

Glorfindel decided that, notwithstanding the love and respect he had for Arwen and Aragorn, he was still very grateful that they had no children. If one was to come careening down the stairs like a bat out of hell, as Arwen had done when she was a child, what would he do? Or if a toddler were seated at the foot of the stairs, and he happened to step on it, what-

"I still say you ought to have the night sky painted on this ceiling, Arwen. Both the height and positioning are perfect." There was Legolas, and apparently Arwen and Aragorn, but in what room? How far?

If what Mirkwood's prince had said earlier was true, and his hearing was indeed sharper, then perhaps no one was where he thought them to be at all.

Glorfindel entertained the thought that, if his hearing became strong enough, he would be able to hear men working in a distant town. If blindness made his other senses stronger, if he lost his sense of smell, would he be able to hear the horses in Rohan?

He laughed quietly at the thought.

"Legolas, I wasn't aware that you knew much of architecture," he heard Arwen comment.

"It is Gimli's doing, I am afraid."

"And so you still blame everything on Gimli," Aragorn replied.

Where was the dining area? Glorfindel halted, three steps from the landing (though he did not know how near he was). He had said he would be at supper. But he had never agreed to be brought there. If Aragorn had caught the discrepancy, he would have said something, and he had not. Which meant that he trusted Glorfindel to come.

But to come, not to be carried! The Elf gripped the banister hard, and considered returning to his room and, if asked, merely saying he had overslept. 

Deep ran his pride; deeper still ran the honor he had carried with him since the days of Morgoth, and he would not go back on a promise made to a friend. He would go and meet them, and follow them to the table.

He found the next step down to be the hardest yet.

********

"Glorfindel! You're on time. I hope you have brought your appetite," Arwen greeted him as he slowly made his way through the doorway. His three friends tensed, as if preparing to help him, but each was stopped in turn by the others.

"I suppose I have, Lady Arwen. If the aroma is anything to judge by, then I won't be able to refuse your chefs." His foot caught the edge of a table and he stumbled, but he turned his foot away, before the table could be tipped over.

A white overstuffed chair gave him more trouble; he had to feel his way around it with his hands. "Well, do not stand here for my sake! Lead on," he said, forcing cheer into his voice. 

"This way?" Legolas asked Aragorn, though he knew already. But Glorfindel needed sound, any sound, to follow.

"Yes," Aragorn nodded, and he and Arwen followed Legolas through the room. "I will go and tell the kitchen that we're almost ready to eat." He disappeared down the hall, to the kitchen, and Legolas and Arwen continued to the dining table.

"Which chair?" Glorfindel asked quietly, when he had found his way safely there.

Arwen took his arm gently in one hand and guided him a few feet to his right. "This one."

"Thank you," he murmured as he eased the chair back and sat down. Arwen took her place and then Aragorn entered and sat next to her. Within minutes, an orderly procession of servers came in with trays of soup, drinks, steaming vegetables, bread, fruits, cheese, and meat.

One or two faltered when they saw Glorfindel, but recovered quickly enough to stop whatever they carried from being spilled. After the servants were no longer hovering over them, they spoke comfortably with one another, and the time passed quickly.

"A strange thing happened this morning," Aragorn commented thoughtfully. "A messenger from Vel Ptens of Laskan came with an invitation to a banquet. Laskan is so small that even through my travels, I have never been to it. They ask for me to bring an honor guard of six...but to a place that is not in Laskan at all. They asked me to Gancuron, which is far from the principality Laskan was once a part of."

"Maybe Ptens is a mayor or in alliance with Gancuron?" Legolas asked.

"I assume he has a considerable amount of influence, as he has re-named part of it. But it makes little sense to hold a meeting in a land so far from his own." Aragorn sighed.

"When is the banquet?" Arwen asked.

"I leave in less than a week, and I will be gone twelve days." He gazed at her apologetically, but Arwen smiled, attempting to reassure him that there was no need.

"Whom will you bring?" she asked.

"Beregond, for one, but I must give further thought to the others."

Arwen and Legolas had informed Aragorn of the recent Elf disappearances, and he had immediately begun organizing a task force, which Legolas would head. Messengers had been sent out, warning others of what was happening.

Glorfindel was to go with Legolas, at least as far as he wished. No one really expected him to fight or scout with the group, including himself.

********

With Beregond and Faramir's council, the best of Gondor's men were chosen to go to the banquet in Olde Laskan, the newly renamed section of Gancuron. They left the day after Legolas and Glorfindel.

The country was mainly lush, green farmland, spotted every now and again with a small house or two. But they found that the town, Gancuron, was abandoned. The small, close homes were neglected; the streets were empty, marked with holes; the fields of vegetables and grain were sparsely packed.

"This land smells of death," said Aragorn quietly, to Beregond.

But Beregond was not the only one to have heard. A man, younger than those in Aragorn's party, came forward. His hair was dark, as were his eyes, and he was dressed in fine green and blue cloth. The confident, observant presence in this man left no doubt in Aragorn's mind as to who this was.

"A plague." Vel's eyes followed one of the crows as it carried food back to its young in the dry corn fields. "But come. You have traveled long. Indoors, King Elessar, there is much to see and you will not be subjected to the stench of those long dead."

A young girl, no more than six, poked her head out of her run-down cottage and watched them pass. She seemed to be alone in the cottage, but she also seemed well-fed, in defiance of the dust and emptiness that engulfed the rest of the town.

Vel noted their curiosity and explained simply, "The town is missing many members now, including that girl's parents, but it leaves more food to be distributed among the future generation."

He led them towards a large home, which was not quite grand enough to be considered a palace. "I have business to prepare for this evening, which we will discuss at dinner." Vel left them quickly, after first making sure their needs and wants were seen to. 

Many men, when agitated, would pace, or become irritable. But Aragorn became still, and grave. "Would that I had learned of this sooner! I have been to this town, long ago. The people of this principality are generous and hard working. Alas, that I could not have helped them!"

"Despair not," Beregond said. "Perhaps Vel has brought us here to plead their case."

Aragorn wearily looked out over the town. "I hope that is the case. But I dare not put faith in it."

  
  


Each man brought only one guard to dinner. Sen had his theories for this. For one, Vel needed someone to pour the wine and dispose of the dishes, assuming that anything was eaten, or that the wine was drunk. In this case, it would be Sen. 

Aside from that, it would be suspicious to tell the King of Gondor to come alone to the forest for supper. And it would be worse to ask Aragorn to bring but one guard if Vel had eight.

Furthermore, if anything Ral had taught Sen was true about Kings, then he knew Aragorn was more likely to give a false reaction in front of a group of people. Asking him to choose one person would compel him to bring the most trusted member of his Honor Guard, and he would have less of a 'mask' on.

And lastly, with or without all the other reasons being true, Sen knew that Vel truly just enjoyed seeing others squirm. Especially those who held more power than he.

  
  


The coach, pulled by two gold and black horses, exited the town and followed the dry road through the countryside.

"I had not traveled out this way," Aragorn said. "I imagine it was once beautiful; but the fields are here forsaken." The sun was much lower now, making it difficult to see.

Yet in the moonlit gloom, a black field came into view; a field, or perhaps even a forest, but the trees were only seven feet tall at most, and they had small and few, or even no limbs. At the top, the trunks were much straighter and thinner then the rest of the tree. The few stout limbs (never more than eight, and most often four on a single tree) were gnarled and twisted, as if frozen in a moment of agony.

The coach turned a corner and the forest was hidden by a tall, bare hill.

  
  


The carriage stopped. Aragorn stared out the window in bleak dismay. "I believe I know where the town really is." He turned to Beregond. "Say nothing once we leave this coach."

The driver pulled the door open, and immediately the stench of death threatened to over power the two men.

When they were able to force their eyes upon the field, the trees revealed themselves at last, not as trees at all, but as men and women impaled upon tall wooden spikes; sometimes upside down, and some pierced through the stomach.

Sitting in the midst of this was Vel, his kind dark eyes alert, and even amused. "Welcome to the forest of Olde Laskan, Elessar. Please, have a seat, and let us speak." Aragorn's hand moved to the hilt of Anduril. "Stay your hand, King of Gondor. You would deeply regret bringing that sword upon me."

"So you are the plague which you said took these lives?" Aragorn asked, his voice cold as the wind bearing frost.

Vel gave a disdainful snort. "Hardly. Rather, they were the plague, and Laskan the blade to remove them. And look!" with a half-serious smirk, he swept his hand over the gruesome scene, and stopped when he pointed to a lone golden spike, away upon a knoll, supporting only a skeleton. "Their prince was the first; even in death, he finds himself above his people."

Aragorn's sharp gray eyes observed this sadly; at last, he turned them back to Vel, and it was a wonder the captain of Laskan could endure the hateful glare as well as he did. "You deserve death, and worse."

Vel moved not a muscle. Quietly, when it was meant to sound entertained, he said, "And I know that you crave to be the one who delivers my sentence." His dark brown eyes shifted away, and his cool detachment returned. "I assumed you would say as much, though you are made of firmer stuff than I thought. Still, I do have business which may concern you, so do take your seat."

Aragorn sat across from him, and his gaze did not waver. "For what business would you have brought me to this place?"

Vel watched Sen. "Reassure my servant." At which Sen looked up. "He worries that this banquet has sparked the wrath of Gondor."

"And you dare hope that I will forget this?"

"No. But I would hope that, when your anger cools, you will remember," he glared at Aragorn, eyes burning in the darkness, in opposition to the cold brooding in the King's gaze. "That this 'forest' was made by only three of my least competent men, and no word was ever sent to Gancuron's allies, Gondor included. No one knew of this, Elessar, and if you act rashly, how many more will die?"

Vel took his wine goblet, sifted it, and placed it back on the table. "Now I expect that you will rush to your allies, to warn them or make certain none of their citizens have met my army. But, before you go, bear in mind that there are a certain number of beings whose fate lies mainly with your actions. And by my word will they live..." he looked over their surroundings, "Or else find only lingering death."

********

Ral groaned as he sat down. He supposed the Elves were more tired than he; he had been riding for two days straight, while they had been walking. But he doubted Elves ever tired. They weren't panting even now, and they never slept. They hardly even blinked, he had found.

"Distribute the rations," he ordered, and closed his eyes for a moment.

"Taur Thranduil dortha u hae o si?" 

Ral could hear their soft, musical voices. But he let them be. Why yell at them for trying to comfort one another?

"U hae...dan law gent em. Ias dortha car em u maer ir erem."

"Thenid. Dan gard ist nam coth!" Ral smiled at the tone in this Elf's statement. The friend sounded so...morose, while this one seemed triumphant, or desperate. He had learned triumph and desperation were nearly the same, differing only in circumstance.

"Manen? Man agorech?" Disbelief, or surprise. Ral knew those sounds only too well.

"Law garin! Min taur u awarthant em! Tad tawarwaith tolinner anem." That tone...reassuring, perhaps?

"I coth ganner sain?" And this Elf was back to sounding hopeless.

But what was said next sounded victorious, confident; Ral wasn't certain what to make of it. "U farn avorn. Min roch noront dan an Eryn Lasgalen. I rochon ristant; I roch noront agarwaen. Heniadh?"

"Avo echadich blannan ech." Sarcasm.

The more optimistic Elf laughed, and they fell into silence. But the peaceful quiet was broken when one of them cried, "Tiro! Cennin I muindor o Collerusc!"

Ral, roused first by the sharpness in the Elf's voice, and then by the sounds of a fight, looked over, and found one of the Elves they had taken from the forest-realm wrestling one of his guards. Ral watched for a moment, and when he decided the guard was losing and that no one else would step in without being told to, he reached over and unchained three wolves.

They sprang free, and in minutes had the Elf down. One had hold of his arm, another his leg, and the third, the largest, was snapping for his face and throat. Galtaur fought to hold it off with his free arm.

This caused the rest of the Elves to try and break free, in order to aid their comrade. The men laughed and cheered, beginning to bet away their evening rations. Ral sighed in irritation and whistled low, the signal for the wolves to leave their prey.

When they stepped away, Ral walked over and stared down at Galtaur. He was bleeding heavily, and the fear of the wolves, still hovering near him and snarling, probably only made it worse. "You are new here?" Ral asked. He crouched a little lower and studied the Elf's tunic. "Your clothing...differs from these others. You are one of those we got from the Elf King's swamp." He sat back on his heels.. "Do not fight; that is a rule, and this is the only warning."

He glanced up at one of the other men, wondering if what he'd said was comprehensible in the Common Tongue. The other man nodded, and Ral straightened. "See to the wounds on his leg. But keep the wolves free; maybe now he will think twice before he acts."

They began to clean and dress Galtaur's leg, but they had barely enough time to finish before Ral ordered the group to move on. "If infection sets in, so be it. If he cannot keep up, kill him and leave him to the birds." Ral's instinct was to be more lenient, but he knew that such a thing had no place in the army of Laskan. Not while Vel was Master. Ral drew himself up and pressed on.

********

Vel rose from his seat. "Clean off the table." Aragorn and Beregond were on their way back to Gancuron, and Vel's coach was waiting, but he seemed in no hurry to leave.

Sen obeyed, though he was torn between his anger at Vel's dismissive attitude after he had placed his own people in such danger, and his fear that he would be added to the Treeless Forest. Bitterly, he thought, "Are you pleased? You have brought the vengeance of Gondor and all its allies upon us."

The silence dragged on. Sen began to hear (or, surely, to imagine that he heard) the citizen's last screams, and slow, endless groans. They stopped abruptly with the ghostly clopping and creaking of an old, familiar carriage as it pulled up. Sen straightened; Vel smiled.

The carriage was gray, weather beaten, the wooden side panels warped from years of abuse, the leather top cracked and dry. The windows were broken out, allowing the tattered white curtains to flap out, as a phantom's hands waving in the night air. Even without the windows, the gloom was too thick to see the passengers.

The door opened, and five got out, four men and one woman. Each was bony, pale, and wild eyed. This was an image Vel had intentionally brought out in them, to cover the cunning abilities Sen knew they had.

For these madmen, half-starved and beaten into their servitude, were some of Laskan's finest spies. Just as Vel could, at will, hide his cruelty behind gentle features, so he had taught these poor creatures to walk behind any disguise he told them to.

"King Elessar of Gondor is back in Gancuron," Vel said quietly. "Follow him; tell me what his plans are, and delay him as best you can. But beware! He is quite observant, and his senses are remarkably strong. Stronger than yours." One hissed to himself at this warning, but swiftly he fell silent again.

Vel opened the door to his elegant coach and pulled a box from under the seat. He tossed old, worn clothing to the spies; it was in the fashion of Gancuron. Vel went on, "He has seen that most of the adults are dead."

"Then I will go in alone," the woman announced. She smiled as she rubbed her costume into the dust and dried blood. "Soft he will be."

The spies changed quickly and went from thin, well armed warriors to sick, haggard peasants. The woman shook loose her hair; it was stringy and gray in that light. Then the five separated and, in each his own direction, set off for Gancuron.

Vel climbed into his coach. "Are you feeling less insolent?"

Sen bit his tongue and bowed his head. "No, Master Vel."

The captain nodded. "For your honesty alone, Sen, I give you the opportunity to live. I will send for you in the morning." to the driver, he called, "Ride on."

And Sen was left to himself.

  
  


"Taur Thranduil dortha u hae o si?" means "King Thranduil dwells not far from here?"

"U hae...dan law gent em. Ias dortha car em u maer ir erem." means "Not far...but he did not see us. Where he lives does us no good when we are alone."

"Thenid. Dan gard ist nam coth!" means "True. But he has knowledge of our enemy!"

"Manen? Man agorech?" means "How? What did you do?"

"Law garin! Min taur u awarthant em! Tad tawarwaith tolinner anem." means "I did nothing! Our King has not abandoned us! Two Elves came for us."

"I coth ganner sain?" means "The enemy caught them?"

"U farn avorn. Min roch noront dan an Eryn Lasgalen. I rochon ristant; I roch noront agarwaen. Heniadh?" means "Not fast enough. One horse rode back to Greenwood. The rider was cut; the horse rode bloodstained. You understand?"

"Avo echadich blannan ech." means "Don't make me hurt you."

"Tiro! Cennin i muindor o Collerusc!" means "Look! I see the brother of Collerusc!"


	11. Gamphall

Aragorn left his room, and his guard, to wander the streets. He wanted desperately to know how many survivors there were, and what state they were in. The little girl blazed in his mind.

He heard, frequently, the pattering of bare feet, but the townsfolk were swift as ghosts, and disappeared as soon as he saw them. That is, except for one; his sharp ears caught the soft singing of a child and, turning, he saw the girl as she sat on her front steps and played with a doll.

She saw him when he began to move toward her, and held onto her doll so tightly she trembled. Aragorn paused. "Hello," he said.

"Hello," she answered cautiously. She looked around without fully taking her eyes from him, and asked, "Where are the others?"

"They are resting. Do you mind if I join you?"

"Join me on a walk? That's where I'm going," she hastily stood up.

In the cottage, Aragorn saw a child, even smaller than the girl, scurry away from the windows. He didn't mention that he knew what she was protecting, and followed her instead. She led him to the town center, where he remembered a beautiful marble fountain had once been.

It was still there, but now mud gurgled and churned in place of clear water. "Master Vel and the big men came, and the water changed," the girl explained.

"How long ago was that?"

"When I was little," she said. "About two years ago." 

"What is your name?" he asked.

"Iryel." She looked up at him. "Are you from Laskan?"

"No," Aragorn shook his head. "I come from Gondor."

She allowed a smile. "Mummy used to talk about Gondor." Her eyes lit suddenly. "Wait here!" she raced back to the ruined shack that passed for her house, and when she came running back, she held a collection of odds and ends in her small, dirty arms.

Aragorn knelt down, and Iryel presented him first with a painting of Minas Tirith and a leather bag embroidered with the crest of Gondor. She stepped closer, to look over his arm as he studied the painting.

"Mummy painted it," she said, assuming from his silence that he didn't already know. "She painted it before I was born. Do you like it?"

"Very much," Aragorn said at length. "She was very talented."

Iryel nodded, and her lower lip quivered. Aragorn lowered the painting and took the child in his arms; silently, she cried.

"What is your name?" she asked when her tears had ceased.

"I am known by many names, yet I would have you call me by that which I knew best when I was your age; call me Estel." Aragorn turned then, with Iryel still in his arms, for he heard someone approaching; one who wore no armor, and was only somewhat heavier than a child.

"Look, Estel," Iryel said when a hunched figure appeared. "It's Senia. Senia!"

"Iryel, child, what are you doing?" A thin, haggard woman came towards them; though she looked no more than thirty, her hair was gray, and she was aged by the cares of the world. An understandable thing, that.

"This is Estel. He's from Gondor; he's nice." Iryel squirmed slightly, and Aragorn set her down. She scampered to Senia, and was given a ragged blanket and some food.

"That was all I could find," Senia told her. "Make it last."

"I kept some from last time you were here, don't worry." Iryel looked back at Aragorn. "She brings things from other lands, but it takes her a long time. I'll be right back." She went away to her house again.

"How many are left in this town?" Aragorn asked, when Iryel was out of earshot.

"Twenty children, but most of them went to be with cousins in other towns. Some of them, such as Iryel, do not have that luxury. There are four others like her; so, with me, there are six who still remain here."

"You live here?"

"Nay, I live on the road." Senia settled herself next to the mud fountain with a sigh. "I am always on the road, but at least we haven't frozen to death. For that, I think the sacrifice of a few blistered toes is enough, don't you?"

"Why have you, one who lived here and saw the horrors as they unfolded, why have you not gone to your allies? Did you doubt that we would send aid?"

"Aye, milord." She stared at him, and then at the fountain, as she ran her hand through the thick black mire. "This is Olde Laskan now, and property of Vel. I would not endanger my allies, who would naively interfere with those the Laskanik people see fit to torture."

********

The host that had been issued from Gondor was stretched out in a long row of twos, and Legolas and Glorfindel rode at its head. Elves who had received the warning from Aragorn's messengers were now joined with them, and King Thranduil, they had heard, was preparing to send aid. Tension went with them, thick and hot.

"Riders," Glorfindel said suddenly. "Coming from the Northwest."

Legolas shaded his eyes and, peering there, saw the shining helms. "The Rohirrim!" he turned to those behind him. "The Rohirrim approach us; I will go to meet them."

  
  


The Riders reported that they had been sent by King Eomer, and would go with Legolas and Glorfindel wherever they went, and fight with them against whatever foe they now faced. 

And so the company grew; four hundred more warriors they now had, which was of great help, for Rohan was skilled in war, and under King Eomer they had become even more so.

"We have news," the Captain said. "On the northern boundaries of Rohan, there has been a sharp increase of wolf attacks on our herds. The hunters who go to destroy the packs rarely return; if they do, they come with grave wounds."

The Elven Prince frowned. "Then that is where we must go."

********

Gamphall glided along in the midst of the wolf pack. It towered above them, golden white to oppose their uniform steel grey. When it wasn't invisible in the trees, the two men who traveled with the beasts found it hard to ignore the panther. The men were hunters, when they weren't performing their duties as soldiers of Laskan, so surely even Vel would forgive them for eyeing the beautiful white pelt. 

So long as staring was all they did.

Gamphall covered the miles effortlessly, taking long graceful strides towards some destination the men knew naught of yet. Eventually, Gamphall began to lag behind, as it scouted the distance, and one of the men fell back with it. He whistled and some of the wolves loped to him. They waited together, tensely.

Gamphall slowly began to pick its way over the brush. Its round ears were trained ahead, though one would at times swivel back to the wolves, checking their positions. The wolves fanned out, disappearing and preparing to leap in to the hunt, should they be needed.

The man began to urge his horse forward, but Gamphall turned, ears now laid back. The man took the warning and held back. The panther stalked ahead without a sound. 

Distantly, the soldier fancied he heard horse hooves.

  
  


Indeed, the man had.

Out of his sight, one of Gondor's messengers had paused to let his horse rest. He had done as King Elessar had asked, in delivering news to whom he could. Any he met along the way home he would speak with as well, but for now he was content to rest in the thick woods. Above, the birds chirped and fluttered, and below, the insects buzzed and clicked in so many directions he couldn't trace, had he wished to.

His horse suddenly reared back her head. She stood tensely for a moment, her nostrils flared, eyes wild with fear. The messenger frowned and turned, straining to see what was spooking his mount.

Years spent in the wilderness allowed him to pierce the forest and see the wolf stalking them. He turned to retrieve his bow, but as he did so, he saw another wolf, and then another. They drifted from their hiding places, and he wondered that he had not seen such a large pack moving in on him before.

He could not fight them all off, that was certain, but in previous battles, he had been able to stop wolves by facing them unwaveringly. He pulled his sword from its sheath, and his horse shuddered, but did not take flight.

The wolves paced, searching for an opening. He was determined not to give them one. 

They would not dare to attack him head-on; and they would not brave the horse's front hooves, which could crush the skull of a wolf with a single blow.

One of the larger beasts snapped at his horse, but pulled back ere she could retaliate; another rushed her from the side in the instant the first was safe, and hardly a second later, two charged at him. He struck at the two wolves with his sword, managing to hit one, but the other's teeth clipped dangerously close to his free hand.

The injured wolf limped backwards, and another came forward to replace it. He heard a yelp behind him, and knew that his horse had managed to free herself. The wolves were more wary of her now; swiftly, he mounted and urged her straight on through them.

The wolves darted from her flying hooves, but recovered and gave chase.

Gamphall sprang from where it had been lying in wait, and the flash of its coat was like lightning in the grasses. The wolves had stalled the horse but a few seconds, yet now it was not far enough ahead to outrun the panther.

Gamphall took a bound that carried it four feet off the ground, and perhaps three meters forward, and it landed on the horse's back. It's weight pushed the rider forward, and pinned him against the horse's neck. The shock of the three hundred pound creature tossed the horse off balance. Gamphall easily sank its fangs into the horse's throat as the three tumbled to the ground. 

From the moment its feet had left the ground to the time the horse fell, it had been seven seconds. 

Three of the claws in it's front paw had caught on the man; when the horse hit the ground, with Gamphall clamped firmly on her throat, the man was jerked from his saddle, but his foot caught in the stirrup and his ankle snapped like a dry twig.

Gamphall freed it's paw from the man's back, so that it could better secure the horse. When the horse was dead, Gamphall stepped back, panting hard and lacking the strength to do more than sit. The wolves came, surrounding the man.

He strained for his sword, but he could not reach it, and he could not stand. When Gamphall recovered some of its strength, it rose slowly and looked at him. The moment when it pounced, the man did not see; its fangs closed on his own throat, and he knew nothing more.   
  


Gamphall sniffed at the two victims; the wolves drew near to the dead horse, and Gamphall snarled and hissed at them until they kept their distance. From the man it could find nothing to take, but the horse's saddlebag had been torn open, and from that Gamphall took all that it could find.

  
  
  
  


Author's Notes: Yep, I based Vel off of Vlad Tepes the Impaler (better known as Dracula). But to be really specific, I'm basing him off of the Russian reports, rather than the Germans'. Sooo, now you can always say "Well, at least I'm not as obsessive as that Pachelbel chic."

(Sorry for the short chapter and the long wait, but Ch. 12 is in the makes, and I have way more ideas to put into that one.)

Estel means Hope (it's the name Elrond gave Aragorn in the appendixes). Seems I've made hope a theme in this one, eh?


	12. A Wolf By The Ears

In the matter of the wolves, Glorfindel tried not to form an opinion. There was a danger, a threat, and it had to be stopped. What opinion could be formed from that? So, he also tended to keep his council to himself.

But someway, his instincts trickled through his aloofness. And those instincts insisted that no enemy was invulnerable, no matter how massive it was. No wolf pack could attack, and kill, and continue on its way without losing members.

When they reached a farm house (the fourth or fifth on a long list, Glorfindel knew), and Legolas took three others to question the landlord, he urged Asfaloth away, telling one of the other Elves that he wished to explore with Asfaloth.

He felt the change in temperature the instant Asfaloth carried him under the eaves of a pine forest. It was pungent and moist there; he felt the water in the air, and smelled it in the soft mud under the horse's hooves.

As they traveled, it grew colder. Glorfindel wondered if the woods were really that much thicker, for he did not think the hour to be more than half past one. The sun had far to go, surely, before setting.

Dizziness came over him, and Asfaloth slowed when he sensed it. Glorfindel groaned in spite of himself and willed the swimming darkness to leave him. His hand dropped, and when his head had cleared and steadied, he felt a warmth amidst the chill air of the forest. It was a sickening, thick warmth, like placing your hand in spilled broth. 

Glorfindel turned his face towards it, expecting to hear whatever it was rather than see it. Asfaloth tensed and snorted angrily, and the Elf heard a soft whimper, disguised beneath a savage growl. 

He tightened his grip on Asfaloth's reigns, and then lowered himself from the safety of Asfaloth onto his own feet. The snarls became fiercer, and Glorfindel hoped he wasn't only imagining the confused undertones in it. He placed one foot closer towards the wolf. The animal snarled obstinately, but Glorfindel was fearless where he stood. 

Asfaloth seemed ready to lunge at the wolf, until the Elf murmured, "Law, Asfaloth, aniron govad sen gaul. Maen draug... gosta men, ar inc nin harn e."

This said, though it did not calm Asfaloth, Glorfindel stepped forward again; two more steps and his fingertips would not be able to brush his saddle. The wolf had quieted some, but had not moved, and Glorfindel doubted that it felt any friendlier towards him.

"Sh. Sidh, coth nin. Togin law naeg den." He half crouched, feeling with one hand the ground in front of him; he was taking a risk already in getting this close, but it could mean his death if he were to trip and fall on it. "Im harn, gaul; aniron law breged, edregol law o edh, u-nagidh nin." 

The snarls had ceased; but whether that was because of Elves' uncanny way with animals, or because the wolf was hoping Glorfindel would forget it was there, none could say.

Glorfindel crept closer still.

********

"There have been cases of wolves slaughtering whole flocks of sheep," a man of Rohan was saying, as he, a Silvan Elf, Legolas, and one of the soldiers of Gondor left the farmhouse. "They are fortunate that these wolves only took four head."

"And their dogs, and one of their sons," the other soldier growled.

"We do not know that their son is dead," Legolas answered. "They searched the woods for miles about, and found no trace of him; no blood and no footprints."

"They also didn't find the wolves, which means they probably went back to their master," the Silvan Elf put in. "Our horses are ready to continue, if you are."

Legolas stopped and looked about himself. "Where is Glorfindel?"

The other Elf frowned and also looked around, as if realizing for the first time that they were missing a member of the company. "I do not know; I didn't notice where he went off to."

"He is not in the field," Legolas said. "Question the others, perhaps one of them knows whither he went."

  
  


Glorfindel reached out his hand; he wasn't entirely sure where the wolf was, but he knew he was within a few feet of its snout. He could feel its breath as it cautiously sniffed his hand. He felt no trust in it, even when it stopped snarling, aside from an occasional soft rumble deep in it's throat. He remembered the dried meat in Asfaloth's saddle pack, and wondered if it might help this along.

As he pulled his hand back so that he could go and retrieve the food, the wolf snarled, and lunged, and ripped his hand open with an easy clip of its fangs.

Glorfindel grunted in pain and retreated, stumbling back into Asfaloth. The horse was angry, and his natural hatred of the wolf was only deepened by this new insult. Glorfindel held him at bay with words, and eventually, reluctantly, Asfaloth stayed still.

Glorfindel sighed and touched his wound gingerly; it was deeper than it was long, but ironically, the fair Elf smiled. "You did not break the bones, as you could have... and perhaps you can not leap high enough, if you are injured, but neither did you try to get at my throat. I fear you less now than I did when I first came across you." 

With his good hand, he pulled the meat out and tossed it into the bushes, in the wolf's direction. He heard the wolf pick it up and eat it. "I think they are worried for me now," he murmured. "Perhaps we ought to head back, Asfaloth."

He tossed the last of the meat to the wolf, waited until he heard it greedily devoured, and climbed slowly into the saddle. "Pado, Asfaloth," he said quietly, and the white stallion turned back along the way they had come. He heard the wolf limp after them.

It was not the custom of wild wolves to leave one of their own behind, and he wondered at this wolf. The training must have banished those instincts from the pack. It was not uncommon. Sauron's wargs had become as vicious and self-serving as any servant of Mordor.

Or, perhaps this wasn't a wolf. Glorfindel thought that it was, but how could he be certain? Unless he touched its pelt, he could only guess. And even when he did know whether or not it was a wolf, how was he to tell if it was one that he now hunted?

The creature continued to follow them. "If you come too near to my people, they will kill you," he said to it. "But I will try to dissuade them, if you follow me so far."

  
  


"Legolas, si im," Glorfindel said, when he heard what sounded like Arod's footfall.

"Glorfindel," Legolas said, riding closer. "Is anything the matter?"

"No, but tell me; is this a wolf I have with me?" He dreaded the answer.

Legolas drew in his breath. "Yes. And she is of like color, and with the same metal chain about her neck as those that we hunt. Did you find her pack, or hear them?"

"Nay, and do not draw your weapons," Glorfindel said, and heard Legolas slowly place an arrow back in his quiver. "I think she has been abandoned, for she is injured."

Legolas spoke softly, "I see the gash, on her leg. It is deep, and bleeds still, though it looks to me several hours old, if not more."

"I thought as much. Help me, I wish to dress the wound." Legolas did not protest, though Glorfindel was aware that he wanted to.

"You are bleeding as well, Glorfindel."

"Yea, I know, but I will tend that later." The two Elves dismounted; the wolf growled low in her throat. "Do you have food to spare, Legolas?"

The prince opened his saddle pack and tossed what he found to the wolf. She gulped the food down as if she had been hungry for days. Then she waited for more, still watching the Elves cautiously.

Legolas shook his head. "What are we to do, Glorfindel? She will not let us get close."

Glorfindel thought in silence. "Asfaloth," he called, and the horse nudged his elbow. Glorfindel smiled faintly, and unclipped the lead rope from the bridle. "We will tie her with this."

Legolas sighed and nodded. "Very well." He took the slender rope and tied it into a slipknot. "Distract her, and I will do my best to get this around her snout."

The wolf was a pack hunter; she was wary of Legolas, but when she turned to Glorfindel, she trusted in the absent wolves to guard her back, and it was not very difficult for Legolas to trap her with the lead rope. 

Still, when Legolas did get her mouth tied securely shut, it was a struggle to control her. But since the wolf could only stand on three legs, the Elves were able to pull her onto her side, where she would have less control of the cord. 

Glorfindel held her feet down, while Legolas knelt on the rope, which kept the wolf's face down, and began to clean the leg wound. When he was finished, he wrapped it with old cloth from Arod's saddle bag. 

Legolas frowned. "Now what? If we release it..."

"Keep the rope on her; tie it around the back of her head, and I will lead her without fear of being bitten," Glorfindel said.

Apprehensively, but unwilling to ask the older Elf's purpose in all of this, Legolas did as he was told. "It is done," he said as he gave Glorfindel the end of the rope. "And I have kept the metal chain."

"Does it bear any markings, or tags?"

"A flat piece of gold is attached; perhaps it is a coin, smoothed out. It has two numbers, one on each side." Legolas examined it. "But nothing more."

The wolf had recovered her footing. She glared up at Glorfindel, and sprang; Asfaloth reacted before she was more than six inches off the ground, and hit her hard. The wolf yelped, rolled, and lay in surprise on the forest floor.

"Thank you," Glorfindel said, laying a hand on Asfaloth's neck. He pulled on the rope, and the wolf got to her feet. "You ought to show more consideration to those who help you, draug."

"If you intend to bring her with us, you realize she will slow us down," Legolas said.

"Perhaps, but we aren't leaving tonight. Or am I wrong?"

"No, you were right, I was planning to leave tomorrow morning."

Glorfindel nodded in satisfaction. "Then tonight she will gather strength for travel."

  
  


Glorfindel kept the wolf tied near his bed. She was frightened, Legolas could tell, but he could also sense the hostility towards her. The company probably assumed they were going to use the wolf to lure out the enemy. For the wolf's safety, Legolas did nothing to correct that notion.

Glorfindel soaked his wounded hand in water the lady of the house had given him. Legolas sat near the other Elves and sang with them, and Glorfindel joined them when he was finished dressing his hand. 

The men kept to themselves mostly, and shared stories. Occasionally, they would take turns guessing at how old each Elf was.

"Legolas," a man of Gondor asked at last. "Tell us, and settle this debate; how old are you?"

The prince smiled slightly. "Much older than you. After a time, the years mean less to us than they do to you. I have seen almost three thousand years, and still I am one of the youngest Elves present."

"But," Rigwanig said with a laugh. "I hold claim to being the youngest. I have but seven hundred years."

"Ah, only that, you say?" a Rider of Rohan laughed. "Then who among us is the oldest?"

A brief silence fell. The Elves exchanged glances, and the men wondered if they had erred in their questions. 

"Glorfindel, I believe, is the oldest," Emlich, Rigwanig's father, answered.

"Glorfindel?" one of the Rohirrim said thoughtfully. "Thy name is familiar, Glorfindel; how many years do you have?"

"Quite a few more than you have guessed tonight, if you were to count the time between my birth and this day. I was born in the First Age; I grew to adulthood during those years."

"He also fought then," Rigwanig added. "He slew one of the Balrogs of Morgoth."

Glorfindel shook his head. "You forget, pen neth, that it 'slew' me as well."

The young Elf countered, "But I remember that you and Mithrandir alone have returned from such a battle."

"Yes," Glorfindel murmured. "So I have."

********

"Tell me about Senia," Aragorn said. Iryel had taken him back to her home, thinking to give him supper. Aragorn had other plans, the first of which was to meet her brother and then take them to where he was staying.

The child was pinning the dirty blankets up to air them out, and placing the newer ones on the floor where she and her brother slept. "What do you want to know?"

"Was she a friend of your parents?"

"Oh, no. They knew each other, though not very well." Iryel pulled up a floorboard and stashed the food away. "She came once or twice before the big men did; after mummy and daddy went away, she helped to take care of all of us."

Senia's accent was very much like Iryel's, but with a faint lilt on the end of her sentences. Perhaps that was what unsettled the King about her. Vel's companion had had the same manner of speech, only far more pronounced, and the memory of his meeting with the two Laskanik men was still fresh in his mind.

Yet if Senia was from Laskan, for what purpose was she here now? Would Vel murder even the children? Aragorn would have been inclined to believe Senia had been sent to watch himself and his men, but Vel couldn't have known a year before that the King of Gondor would return, and shortly after taking the throne, would come to Gancuron.

"Estel, this is Tulian, my brother." Iryel stood behind a child, even smaller than her, but he was cleaner at the least. "Tulian, this is Estel of Gondor."

"I am happy to meet you, Tulian," Aragorn said, giving him a warm smile.

Tulian smiled back, and his lacked the sadness his sister carried. "Are you here for dinner?" he turned his head to Iryel. "Did Senia come? Do we have more now?"

Iryel nodded, bubbling with enthusiasm. "Lots of food, Tulian, and when she comes again, she'll have even more."

Tulian ran to the floorboard which hid their food; he pulled out two cracked plates, three cups, and some food wrapped in blue cloth.

Aragorn said, "Children, I am not here for dinner. In truth, I am here to take you with me, to the guest quarters where I am staying. They have supper there waiting for us."

"They do?" Tulian asked, not allowing himself time for disbelief ; he was practically bouncing with excitement.

"Yes, they do," Aragorn smiled. "Come; we wouldn't want to keep the others waiting, would we?" Tulian shook his head and led the way out.

"Do you really mean that?" Iryel asked. Aragorn was somewhat surprised. What reason would he have to lie to her?

But he perceived that she lied at times to her brother, to comfort him when he worried for food, or clothing, or sickness, or any of the other things adults dealt with. Troubles that Iryel now faced, though she was but six years of age.

"Yes, I mean it," he said, his cool gray eyes meeting hers. "And I hope you will like it."

Iryel nodded. "I will. And even if I don't, I won't embarrass you in front of your captain. But we might have to keep an eye on Tulian, he spat out some bread once at a dinner party. Daddy was really upset."

Aragorn held out a hand, and Iryel placed hers in his. "Even if you were to try, you could not embarrass me in front of my captain. And I want the both of you to relax and have fun; do not worry what the others may think of you."

********

Glorfindel did not sleep that night. In fact several of the Elves did not; when the men had all drifted off to sleep, they rose and went off where they could speak without disturbing their companions.

Glorfindel nudged the wolf, praying to the Valar that Legolas' knots would hold. He was met with low growls, but the Elf paid them no mind. Quietly, he pulled the wolf to her feet and called to Asfaloth.

Glorfindel swung himself up into the saddle, and noted that it was becoming easier (not much easier, he knew, but when compared to his first attempt since being blinded, even this much progress felt incredible).

They passed where the wolf had been found, walking for perhaps two or three miles more, before he called to Asfaloth to stop. There he dismounted, and walked away from the horse.

The wolf was besides herself; she pulled angrily on the rope, snarling as fiercely as she could while knowing he knew that she posed no real threat. He allowed her tantrum to pass, and when it had, she sat still and panted.

At long last, they heard the forest sounds return. When the wolf became bored, she stood up and waled to the end of her lead; Glorfindel stepped closer, giving her more slack. She took it, and he gave, and so he was taken through the forest until, abruptly, she stopped.

Glorfindel heard movement ahead of them, but could not tell how far it was, nor at this point could he guess what it might be. The wolf stood still for two long minutes, and then silently began to move towards it.

Asfaloth was behind them, just near enough that he could watch the wolf carefully, but far enough that he would not interfere with what Glorfindel was doing. But as they moved further ahead, he also had to move, and he made more sound than either the Elf or the wolf.

"Who's there?" a voice called out. "I hear your horse! Speak up, announce yourself!"

Glorfindel released a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. "How long have you been here, in the woods?" Now that the man was no longer trying to be stealthy, it was easy to tell that he was not Elf, nor animal.

"Three days. I was thrown from my horse while I was hunting the wolves that have been killing our sheep. I would have turned back, but at night I can hear them howling; none of them had come closer than a mile of me, so I stayed, hoping they would leave."

"Indeed...they have," Glorfindel said.

"How did you know I was missing? Did my father send you?"

"We --other Elves, and forces from Rohan and Gondor-- are staying the night with your family, for we are hunting these wolves. One of the Riders sent by King Eomer told us of the attacks on your farm, and we came to find clues. I found one of the wolves, and remembered that they often return to their prey."

"You're an Elf!" the man exclaimed. "I never thought-- an Elf! What is your name?"

A familiar nose bumped into his elbow. "I am Glorfindel; this is Asfaloth. He will take us back; your family is very worried for you."

The man climbed onto Asfaloth. "And he is an Elven horse!"

Glorfindel handed the wolf's leash to him. "Yes. We both hail from Rivendell, if you have heard of it." He gritted his teeth and pulled himself into the saddle in front of the farmer. "Tego men ad."

Asfaloth turned and trotted easily back the way they had come; the wolf limped next to them.

  
  
  
  


"Law, Asfaloth, aniron govad sen gaul. Maen draug... gosta men, ar inc nin harn e." means "No, Asfaloth, I desire to meet this wolf. Clever wolf... he fears us, and my guess is he is wounded." ('Draug' means 'wolf')

"Sh. Sidh, coth nin. Togin law naeg den." means "Sh. Peace, my enemy. I bring no pain to you."

"Im harn, gaul; aniron law breged, edregol law o edh, u-nagidh nin." means "I'm wounded (also) wolf; I don't want violence, especially not from you, (so) don't bite me."

"Pado, Asfaloth," means "Walk, Asfaloth."

"...si im," means "I'm here."

"Pen neth" means "young one"

"Tego men ad" means "Take us back"

Author's Notes: It's disputed that the Glorfindel from the trilogy is the same one from The Silmarillion. Obviously, I'm one of the ones who says 'Yes, they're the same guy!'. If you want to know my reasons, other than 'so I can argue with my brother', feel free to e-mail me. Or hey, e-mail me anyway; *sniffle* my box is open *sniffle*.


	13. Calm Before The War

"If we come near enough and she howls, it ought to draw her pack to us." Ninder, of Gondor, attempted to sound optimistic and professional.

"I suppose," Glorfindel replied. "But then again, I do not understand the cry of a wolf; if she howls to them, it may warn them that she is my captive."

Legolas smiled slightly at the man's expression, as he backed away from the Elf. "They do not understand your reason for keeping this wolf, Glorfindel."

The older Elf shook his head in agreement, and resumed tearing up dried meat and packing it. Asfaloth was grazing in the tall grasses near by, grateful to be free of saddle and bridle.

Legolas sat down and watched the wolf, who was tied firmly at Glorfindel's side. She had given up on frightening them with her snarls, and settled for lying in the way of the company and looking sullen.

"She will travel when you are ready, Legolas," Glorfindel spoke, interrupting Legolas' thoughts.

Legolas turned his gaze to his copper stallion in the meadow. "Arod deserves a rest, and not half so much as Asfaloth has earned. Let them be for an hour more."

"As you will," Glorfindel said, tying the saddle pack shut. "Do we go North from here?"

"I spoke with the others; they believe that is where the wolves have gone," Legolas said. The wolf groaned and shut her eyes, preparing to sleep. "May I ask how you plan to feed the wolf?"

"As cautiously as I am able," Glorfindel answered. "She is unable to open her mouth very wide, but it is not secured to the point she cannot open it at all; I cannot tell if I will have to loosen the rope."

Legolas turned his eyes away. "I trust your judgment on this, my friend...Against that which tells me to slay this wolf."

Glorfindel touched the rope. "I know, and I am grateful. My reasons are mixed, and those which are not obvious are perhaps more difficult for me to see than they are for you." He stretched back, leaning on the tree stump behind him. "Much of my life was spent following my instincts, Legolas. Far be it for me to change them now. My heart bids me spare this wolf for now, though like you, I desire to kill her. It is to be expected, I think, for we have both spent millennia fighting her kind and watching them take our friends' lives."

The prince spoke with all the conviction he possessed when he said, "As I have said, I will trust you, and I will stand by your decision regardless of who may oppose us."

"Thank you, Legolas. It means much to me," Glorfindel's voice was quiet, and slightly choked. There in the land of Rohan, the sun shone on the company, and on Glorfindel, the Captain of Gondolin, scarred forever by the torment of the Orcs. 

Yet for the first time since his captivity, his posture showed no defeat, and the scars were somehow less horrific. 

His milk-white eyes began again to shine with the brightness befitting of an Elf Lord.

********

"Beregond," Aragorn said as he entered, with the two children not far behind. "Come, I must speak with you. Tulian, Iryel," he turned to them, "Would you wait here?"

"Of course, Estel," Iryel said, taking her brother's hand, as if to ensure he wouldn't disobey.

Aragorn smiled at them, and then led Beregond into the next room. He closed the door behind them and turned.

"Estel, sire?" Beregond questioned.

"It was my name when I dwelt in Imladris," Aragorn explained. "But listen to me carefully. The children I have brought are orphans, as a result of the tragedy. Their caretaker thus far has been a woman whom they call 'Senia'; I believe she is from Laskan, though her accent is heavily influenced by that of Gancuron. This means one of two things: the first, that she truly has dwelt here long enough to acquire the accent. I doubt this one; she has been here frequently, but by all indications, has not lived here. I still am not sure. The second is that Vel has sent her, and she it was who told him the weaknesses and allies of Gancuron, or else was here so often on some errand I cannot guess." Aragorn sighed. 

Beregond took this news in and nodded for the King to continue. "Beregond, the authority of King Elessar will not aid me in uncovering the truth; therefore, say not who I am, and do not hint that the King of Gondor is in Gancuron. When in the presence of others, do not look to me for orders, or at least, do not ask me directly for them. Only at great need will I speak up. This means that you must act as the one in charge. Tell this to the men, and be sure that they know the folly of revealing ourselves too soon."

"I understand, Elessar.... Aragorn." Beregond paused uncertainly. "Or would you rather we call you Estel?"

Aragorn considered a moment and nodded. "Yes. Call me Estel; it will give Senia less to suspect. Have you any questions before we dine?"

"No; but tell me if I understand aright. You wish us to act under my orders, and to call you Estel, if we are to do name you anything in public. We are all to keep our eyes open for a woman called Senia. The children are not to know you are the King, nor are they, or the people of Gancuron to know that the King is present."

"You understood correctly, Beregond. Grateful am I that you are one of Gondor's soldiers! I will go now to Iryel and Tulian. Come and get us when supper is ready for us." Aragorn opened the door, allowing Beregond to exit before him. 

He crossed the room to the two children, who were exploring the beauty of the large house. Beregond walked away to the kitchen.

"What was that about, Estel?" Tulian asked.

Iryel stamped her foot in exasperation. Apparently, the two had discussed this during the absence of the men.. "No, Tulian! You don't ask soldiers what they do; they may kill you if they tell you."

Aragorn shook his head. "I would tell you naught that would get you killed. Supper will be served shortly." He held out a hand to each of them. "I will show you around while we yet have time. If you find a room you like, and it is unoccupied, tell me of it."

********

Arwen Undomiel sat alone in the grand libraries of Minas Tirith. She was not now searching for anything specific; she had begun a search on the white panther she and Legolas had seen in the forest. But when she found the only writings about it, she had gained no useful knowledge.

There had been but two recorded sightings of panthers before; both were golden with black rosettes. They were not as great a problem to kill as many other creatures. The difficulty, aside from finding one, was keeping track of it long enough to stop your arrows from going astray. Such a feat was so difficult that no panther yet had been hunted and killed in Middle-earth.

While she worked on a way to use what little they knew, Arwen read a scroll written about Celebrian, the daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn, and wife of Elrond. Greatly did Arwen miss her, and all the more when she saw the beautiful face of her mother etched in the parchment. At first the sight of Celebrian brought a heart wrenching pain to Arwen's fair face. But then her musings became invisible, her face smoothed out into passive thought.

Arwen knew well that Elrond longed to cross the Sea like his wife before him, and his parents long ago. So many other Elves desired this journey now more than ever, including Galadriel, and it seemed even Legolas, the prince of woods far removed from the Sea. When this enemy was dealt with, and it was safe to depart to the Sea, she knew that Elrond would go with little delay. There he would be reunited with Celebrian, whom Arwen would never look upon again.

Frodo Baggins the Ring Bearer would likely go with him, and Bilbo as well. The peace the two Hobbits would find there lifted Arwen's heart, knowing the pain that Frodo especially had endured.

Arwen slipped the papers back into their proper places, chastising herself bitterly. For such selfish reasons did she rejoice in the delay her kin were met with!

No, the feelings for which she rebuked herself were not to say that she could ever regret her choice to share Aragorn's doom. The briefest sight of Aragorn soothed away the biting sorrow when she thought of her parents, and she looked forward to the next moment she shared with him, and the one after that, and those stretching into the unknown eternity of mortal death.

Nothing would stop her from aiding her kin in whatever way she could.

Arwen sat down and spread a map of the known regions out before her. At this time, King Thranduil, her father, all of Gondor, and now Rohan were watching for the enemy. Perhaps when Aragorn returned, they would also have Laskan to aid them.

These were mainly Eastern and Southern lands, (if Laskan could be counted at all. It was too small to stand as an independent country, or so it seemed from times past when other countries had invaded). This was a handicap when one considered how far the pack might stretch. 

The enemy had won over at least one town already, one that she and Glorfindel and Legolas had had the fortune of passing through...barely. If they were so easily bought, then surely they could be taken back again. With the many towns belonging to no particular province on their side, this fight would be far easier won.

Arwen rolled the map up again, placed it in its proper place, and half-ran out of the library.

********

"It darkens more easily now, yet the snows have not arrived." Vel shifted his weight from one foot to the other, which was always the surest sign of his distaste. "If it snows at all in these Vala forsaken lands."

"I have heard that it does," Sen offered.

Vel hardly tore his eyes from the purple horizon. "Let us pray that it does. I would be the last to undermine Gamphall's abilities to pass unnoticed, but realistically, he does not fare as well in darkness as he does in bright sunlight."

"I believe that, but it has survived eight winters already, and two were spent in snowless lands. It is Kirolksh...the moon willing, each night will be frigid and black as pitch. Gamphall can move easily in those conditions."

"It is hithui. Kirolksh is frigid and black. Hithui is nearly over, and still has yet to prove itself as an asset." Vel never failed to correct his men when they made a cultural mistake. By the same hand, in Laskan he never failed to correct visitor's mistakes.

It was a cloudy evening. The moon slowly rose, as the sun's final colors faded and died. An hour passed as the last crickets of the year called to one another; a week more, and the night would have no more insects to fill its suffocating emptiness.

The sun edged its way out from behind the clouds, and the plains were blanched ash gray. The trees stood apart, touched but unaffected by the light. And there, climbing over the hills not thirty yards away, they saw Gamphall, whiter than any snow Vel had ever seen.

It stopped when the moon revealed it, and dropped to its belly, hiding in the grasses. Sen narrowed his eyes, knowing where it was, but unable to see it clearly. When the moon hid her face again, the panther dashed ahead.

Sen backed away involuntarily, and didn't miss Vel's smirk as he did so. Gamphall stopped short in front of them, panting, and dropped what it carried.

Vel knelt down and examined it. "From...Gondor, it seems. A saddle bag." Keenly, he peered up at Sen. "I am glad I can't ask him how it was taken from the horse." The leather was torn in four places; the four hind claws. Inside was a slip of paper, written in the language of the Western lands, which Sen did not understand.

"They are hunting wolves." Vel shook his head. "This man must have been on the trail when Gamphall found him. I wonder...how did they know? Gamphall slew the man of Rohan on his own, I assume, and rightly so. Word of our wolves did not come from Rohan. How then does our guest know?"

"It does not make sense, Master." Sen replied gruffly. "But with respect, the wolves are not watched all that closely by some of our herdsmen. They are probably killing sheep and cattle, and that is what attracted the attention."

Vel stood up, dusting off as he did so. "Yes. I would like to believe that. My education in this alphabet was...limited, and I can't be sure...but something in here mentions Elves. Those that have been missing for sometime now were probably noticed. But how would Gondor know the Elves are associated with the wolves?"

Sen regarded Vel cautiously. He hated the assumption they both were making, but it fit the clues better than anything he could come up with. "Treason, Master. Someone must have told them."

"Precisely." Vel walked to the coach and pulled out a dark, filthy piece of cloth from a thin metal box. He held it over Gamphall's nose for perhaps thirty seconds, and stepped back, quickly sealing it back into the box.

This part of the training had been quite a bit more difficult. Over the distances Vel and his men covered, he hadn't even been certain it would work, being uncertain as to how strong a panther's tracking abilities were. 

Vel had cloth, a scent, for each man he placed in charge. Gamphall had learned to associate each smell with each man, and thus would carry messages and packages to whomever Vel pleased.

Vel scribbled on the back of the Gondor paper, and gave it to the panther. It turned and headed for the treeline. "Do not think for a moment, Sen, that this treason goes without suffering. And that suffering will not be mine."

  
  


Author's Notes: It started to bug me. If this was canon, where would it fit in? Here's what I figured. Arwen married Aragorn. She went with the funeral procession (for Theoden). Then she returned with Elrond to Rivendell, getting there on September 21. On October 20, she goes with Glorfindel and Legolas. They get to Minas Tirith on November 3. This chapter is sometime in mid-to-late November.

Hithui means November (so does Kirolksh) And I really can't believe that's the only Elvish in this whole chapter!

In other news...an art bunny bit me a while back. Anyone interested in seeing two pencil drawings of Glorfindel and Asfaloth? One is the rough draft, and I never put a background to it, but my dad likes it better (you can see Glorfindel's face in that one.) If so, I'll scan them and put them up sometime. I'm thinking of doing one of Gamphall, too, because it's hard to mess up a coloring of a white leopard.

Magda, would you pretty please e-mail me? I tried to e-mail you, but it just wouldn't work! (If the address in my profile isn't working, then hopefully cannibalmnm@yahoo.com will.)


	14. Chapter 14

Ral and his straggling group of Elves, wolves, and men had reached the foot of the Grey Mountains. The Elves showed no sign of tiring, but the men were not used to the elevation, and all of them, Ral included, found themselves short of breath.

The Elves wisely said nothing about it, not even in their own musical, breathy language. The wolves were kept chained at the back and front, ready in a moment to spring upon any offender. Their eagerness kept them from becoming exhausted.

Ral mopped the sweat from his brow and stared despondently up at the mountain peaks. "We will begin the trek in one hour," he decided. 

The Elves glanced at each other when this news was translated into the Common Tongue. Ral watched them look quickly at the injured Elf from the forest stronghold. Since the wolves had set their jaws to him, he had uttered nay a complaint. Ral had once believed sickness could never take an Elf, but now he was not so sure. Infection could, surely.

The wounds had been washed, and washed again at each stop, so hopefully the Elf's mystical resilience would keep him from falling ill. If not, Ral had said himself, there was nothing they could do but leave him to the birds. If that were the case, it would have to be done after they had climbed a few miles; they were far enough from the Elf King's land to rest safely, but there was no sense in leaving a trail as obvious as an Elf body.

One Elf spoke up in the Common Tongue; Ral waited for the translation, though he had caught a few words. Piecing them together in his own language required too much effort in such thin air.

"He says that if we wait very long, the mountains will become too dark to climb," Fer said, and muttered, "I don't know if I'd believe him. We're not safe here, and they may be trying to stall us."

"By the time it grows dark, we will have quite a bit of distance behind us. Ask him why he mentions it. Does he think us to be fools?" Ral forced irritation into his voice. He was too tired for arguing.

Fer questioned the Elf and then translated the answer, "He says that when it is dark this late in the year, it is very cold. It will be much colder on the mountains, and thus more dangerous for us. Many men have perished there in the past."

Ral sat quietly for a moment. Summoning strength into his legs, he rose to his full height. "Hah! Men he says? No Elves, then? So superior, are they?" Would that he had such feelings in him! "Tell them that, being so unequipped, if I become too cold, I will tear those fine cloaks off their backs and we will put them to use!"

Whether he felt this way in reality or not, Ral was a convincing actor. The Elves stared up at him, some of them shocked, the others masking it. His men had shied away from him. Memories of Vel's outbursts would ever be engraved in their minds. 

The wolves picked up on his mood, and it confused them. They stirred uneasily, snarling low, snapping at each other.

Ral sat back down, listening as it was translated, half regretting what he had said. He knew that of anyone, the Elves knew most about paths over the mountains. If he thought he could count on them to help lead the way, he would gladly have taken it as an excuse to treat them better.

But no Elf in their right mind, nor even in the wrong mind, would aid their kidnapers.

********

When Asfaloth was born, he had been a shaky, perhaps even flighty, little colt. He had run from Glorfindel on long, knobby legs until he toppled end over end, and found the Elf several yards back.

The friendship between them had been slow, but Glorfindel could have marked their progress day by day. Always there was some tiny, new grain of trust the colt would give him. At first it was that he would only run three meters away, and stand there listening to his songs. Or he would wait next to his mother when Glorfindel fed her. Eventually, it was that he would take treats out of Glorfindel's hand.

With the wolf, it was very different. He knew full well that keeping a wolf and keeping a horse would have some large differences. The first of which was that a wolf was not meant to be tamed; it was meant to kill. Though, he had not captured this wolf with the intention of quelling her 'wildness'.

But was it too much to ask for her to at least show some tolerance of him? He fed her, he protected her, and still...

"Ow!" The Elf yanked his hand back. He touched where he had been bitten, to find that no blood had been drawn this time. The wolf had learned not to snarl when she bit him, because Legolas and Asfaloth were never far, and were very quick to punish her. 

No, Glorfindel knew that she would never trust him. She probably did not trust those who had trained her, nor even the wolves in her pack. He could not say that he had expected anything different from her. One thing only marked the progress he had made.

Glorfindel could almost always tell where Asfaloth was, even over some distances. More than two decades spent together had ensured it, and this bond had become stronger since Glorfindel had become dependent on him, and they had begun to travel together again.

Regardless of any bonds of friendship, the wolf was tied to him every hour of the day. He would have been scared if he had not begun to recognize her, first thing when he woke up, and then as a presence in his mind throughout the day.

He was fairly certain that other Elves had this ability. Lady Galadriel, certainly, and Lord Celeborn and Lord Elrond. He was not sure if Legolas did, and despite his curiosity, he could not ask him.

The wolf sat back on her haunches; Glorfindel could feel her watching him. "What would you have me do? Starve you?" he asked. He moved his hand back to the saddle bag, and the wolf lowered her head, pulling against the rope. Any time he moved his hand, especially where she could not see it, she would go into a defensive stance and growl.

He heard Asfaloth's reins slap against one another as the horse turned sharply to wolf and Elf. It was the only warning the wolf would receive, and she knew it. The rope was tugged gently as she turned her face to Asfaloth, sizing him, and thought better of what she was doing. Slowly, she settled down and waited for Glorfindel to pull her back onto the trail.

********

"So what is that, due west?"

"Mirkwood."

Iyn frowned. On the horizon, 'Mirkwood' loomed, black and chilling. He had been warned to stay down and hidden; Elves could see him clearly otherwise, even from this distance. He was almost convinced Vel was pulling his leg about that, but orders were orders.

"Look," Iyn said suddenly, pointing to a medium sized animal that had wandered out into the meadow. Ais muttered something under his breath and kept his nose buried in a book.

A flash of something white caught his eye; turning in the little space he had, he saw Vel's 'Gamphall' in the forest. 

It sat down and watched the animal, which was now very cautious and on the verge of bolting. Gamphall's tail twitched; the animal's ears stayed focused on it. Gamphall sniffed the air and, seeming to lose interest, began batting at its tail. It became absorbed in the game; it flipped and rolled, pounced and spun, all for the sake of capturing its long white tail.

Baffled, the smaller creature came closer, while Gamphall continued to ignore it. It came still closer; and then a few steps more. The two animals could have touched noses. Iyn frowned. He was as curious as the animal of the Elf woods, but even so, he wouldn't have come that close, were their situations reversed.

The man watched as Gamphall finally caught it's tail, and the animal stretched out it's nose, daring at last to smell the strange beast up close. In a blurring moment, the poor naive beast was down, kicking wildly, with Gamphall locked onto it's throat.

"Did you see that?" Iyn asked.

Ais looked up from his book. "Is that Gamphall?"

Iyn climbed down from the tree and walked into the clearing, once Gamphall's prey had stopped struggling. 

"Iyn, don't!" For a moment, everything was still; the wind (Ais was unsure if there had been any to begin with) was noticeably absent. Gamphall raised its head to look at Iyn, and time stood still. Ais' heart sank as a breeze came out of nowhere, barely rustling the panther's whiskers, pushing the tips of the pale green grass.

The panther swivelled its head gracefully toward the Elf kingdom, testing the air. It took a moment for Ais' ears to register the savage growl, starting deep within the panther's throat.

"They know we're here!" Ais had meant to yell it, to warn Iyn, but he wasn't sure the words ever broke free from the block of ice in his gut. He was fairly certain they hadn't, and he assumed it was for the best really. The Elves couldn't hear him if he was silent. Gamphall would ignore him if he did not draw attention to himself.

The panther, it was said, would kill those that threatened its safety, including those foolish enough to come out of hiding, thus alerting keen-eyed enemies to the Laskanik soldiers' positions. Vel had trained the panther to do this, not so much to cover his tracks - Gamphall would kill, but he would not hide a body - but instead to terrify and threaten his men into staying hidden. In Iyn's case, it had failed.

Gamphall's round white ears shot back, and it turned fierce yellow-green eyes to the young man. Slowly, it's ears moved to the sides. The yellow-green became slits, and Gamphall snarled, showing every inch of it's long fangs. Iyn panicked. He turned, running, though logic dictated that it was useless.

Ais refused to watch; if Gamphall got him, he would not watch. But in seconds, Ais was surprised yet again, when Iyn was sitting in front of him, hugging the thick trunk of the tree. He had, indeed, made it up ahead of Vel's pet.

Ais gave the younger man a disbelieving grin, while Iyn fought back the painful gasps that lie between hysterical sobs and laughter. But then there was a sound; part of them knew that it took only a short time, but Ais could count each time the claws entered the bark, and left, climbing higher. He got to four.

Then Iyn was knocked from his limb, tumbling down to the muddy floor below. Ais stood up and began searching for other limbs; Gamphall watched for movement from Iyn, but when his patience was unrewarded, he sprang after Ais, following as easily as Ais assumed he would have on the ground. But up in the trees, there were fewer places to hide, and only one place to go if he wished to outpace the hunter.

********

"We draw near to something," Glorfindel murmured. 

Legolas felt apprehensive as well, but for no reason other than he was, by nature, watchful, and his senses were even more on edge now that he was on the hunt. "What do you mean?"

The wolf was behaving strangely, at least in Glorfindel's mind. The strain she gave against the rope was less for rebellion now than out of distracted curiosity. She was more obedient to him when he pulled her forward.

But Glorfindel had no hope of explaining this to the other Elf, so he shook his head and answered, "Take my words in faith, Legolas."

Legolas accepted this more readily than Glorfindel thought he would if Legolas had told him such a thing. "I will. But do not keep me in the dark over long, my friend; Arwen is not with us, but we agreed she was right when she said that information was best shared when we are all in danger."

Not yet could Glorfindel hear the wolf pack; nor could he hear the bones which adorned the Wolf Lords' horses. But he could feel a cold, tense tremor in the air, and he knew they would have peace (if this could be called peaceful) for but a little while longer.

  
  
  
  


Author's Notes: I was looking in this old book my dad gave me when I read the bit about a leopard chasing it's tail to get it's prey to come close, and thought 'Ha! That's gotta be a Gamphall moment.' Those leopards...what will they do next? Sorry for the long wait and the shortness of the chapter. Got bit HARD by another plot bunny. Have to feed that one before I can get back to work on the others. Then, on top of that, Star Wars fever is returning, slowly but very very steadily.

Picture update: The two Glorfindel pics are up at http://www.geocities.com/deidos_thekell/ and the Gamphall drawing should be up at some point in the not-too-distant future. They upload kind of slowly, sorry.


	15. Wolf Hunt

Author's Notes: Yep! All the men from Laskan have 3-letter names. There's a lot of jumping around in this chapter, so I hope it all fits together somehow. 

  
  


Ral gazed up at the sky, which was a pale, piercing blue this day, and ordered the group to move on without him. It would be easy for him to catch up; he would have congratulated them had they moved even a mile from him in four hours' time.

Why had he not remembered the perils of crossing mountains? How long would it be before they grew used to this cursed place of thin air? He would have sighed, if he had had the air in his lungs to do so. As he did not, Ral concentrated on picking his way over the rocks.

Hanging in the air, but slowly heading his way, was a falcon. At least, that was what he preferred to call the Laskanik birds. Falcons, in truth, were meant to be sleek and stealthy, but it was long since he had seen one such as that. Though, Ral conceded, these were well trained; lazy at times, and the short years under Vel's command had given them opportunity to eat more than their fill of man flesh, making them terrifying to look upon, and vicious at heart, but they followed orders well enough.

He held out a forearm and the black, haggard, once-falcon lighted upon it gratefully. Careful not to touch it - few men in Laskan were without the scars of such a folly - Ral pulled a message from the leather cylinder attached to its claws. 

He hadn't been expecting Falconers to come so far West, and the sight of this bird had deeply unsettled him. What had happened to worry Vel so much that he would use the falconers?

R,

Hurry. When over the mountains, camp for one week, go to Laskan with or without the next group. Vel's orders.

Grp 8

Ral sent the falcon on it's way, slipped the paper safely into a pocket, and went to his place at the head of the line. As he hiked, he noticed the injured Elf, hobbling next to his kin. Ral hesitated, and then quietly slipped them a vial of medicine.

********

Glorfindel allowed Asfaloth to lead him. He considered it 'leading', though he did not walk, for he had not asked the horse to take him to any particular destination. At least a mile behind them, he could still hear the men in the group.

The wolf tugged constantly at the rope, but Asfaloth was not to be swayed until Glorfindel asked him to follow. "Daro, Asfaloth," he murmured at last, when his hand was nearly rubbed raw from the wolf's impatience.

Obediently, the white stallion stopped. The wolf had just launched herself into another fit of struggling, expecting Asfaloth to be moving; Glorfindel heard the wolf yelp, and knew the rope had jerked her to the ground. Asfaloth shook his mane and snorted, and Glorfindel wondered whether he should reprimand the horse for it.

"Lasto!" he murmured, waiting for a reaction that would tell him if Asfaloth indeed heard the wolves.

The wolf certainly did. She whined, stood tensely, and paced in moderation, and when the howling paused she answered them in low, unearthly tones. Asfaloth cried out his indignation, but Glorfindel laid a hand on his neck to quiet him.

There was a chorus that answered her, and it brought a slight chill to the air that Glorfindel did not care to sit long in. "Ado an Legolas, Asfaloth," he said, and the horse turned sharply back. He had turned to the outside, away from the wolf, and jerked her off balance, cutting off her howl ere it could pass her fangs.

********

The troupe had moved on through the day, towards the latest sighting of the wolf masters. Glorfindel knew for a fact that the wolves were there, and had told Legolas how near they had sounded the night before. As the group had grown, so had their eagerness for blood, and it emanated to the horses, making them difficult to hold back at times.

Yet still one horse responded to soft words. Asfaloth moved easily out of the way of the horses behind him, and stopped. "Go on and claim back our kin, Legolas," Glorfindel said, turning his face over his shoulder out of courtesy. "This is as far as I might travel with you."

He was prepared to move on with no other word, but one of the men spoke up in surprise and agitation, "What do you mean by this? You cannot go on your own!"

"I am not obligated to remain with the group," the Elf answered patiently, but there was a strength and nobility visible in him that no one present could contest. He laid a hand on the stallion's gleaming white coat and added, "And I go not alone. Few horses can match a pace set by Asfaloth, and even these wolves will not run him down."

Legolas watched the exchange sadly and spoke at last, for his words would be final, "Nay, you do not answer to me, nor to anyone here. Return safely to Rivendell, mellon nin."

Glorfindel smiled faintly. "Go with caution, Legolas. I wish to speak with you when this is over, as I know Gimli the Dwarf does, and I fear the thought of bringing ill news to him."

The prince laughed, and yet his gray eyes were somber. Glorfindel whispered to Asfaloth, and the horse moved on at a fast trot, away from the relative safety of the company. 

At Legolas' order, the hunt was resumed.

********

"You're going back to Gondor?" Tulian asked, his sticky little hands clasped around one of Aragorn's.

"In the morning," the King answered with a nod. He had knelt before the two children, expecting nothing different from the reactions they were giving him. Both looked sorely disappointed, though in different ways. Iryel stood just behind her brother, looking frightened but determined; Tulian was the more upset, at least outwardly. "But I do not wish to leave you here alone. I ask you to come with us."

"Can we?" Tulian asked, addressing his sister.

"Can we?" Iryel echoed, hardly before Tulian's question had reached her ears.

"Yes, you may," Aragorn said, smiling at their enthusiasm. It was a relief that the strength of a child's eagerness had not been robbed of them, even through what they had endured. "And now we need our rest; I will see you in the morning, at breakfast."

The two children darted up the stairs, to the softness of their beds, where they would lie awake to dream of Gondor.

********

Senia crept out of the dismal town, hardly stirring the dust around her, as though she were as insubstantial as the ghosts Vel left to haunt these ruins. "The children sleep," she whispered in their native, biting language.

Three ragged men looked up at her, their eyes gleaming vividly. Senia crouched down in the same way they did, with her knees drawn up to her chest and with her hands resting on the ground; they had to crane their necks to look at one another, but it was not uncomfortable for them, as used to it as they were. The position, however, appeared fully unnatural.

She met the eyes of the man straight across from her. "The Elf-named does not trust me."

"He is unimportant," one of the men whispered back. His job was research; because of this, he had more say than any other member save Senia, as she was the one in the middle of it all.

"Why do you say this?" Her tone was curious.

"He will be too busy to notice your presence, when he returns to Gondor. Do not worry yourself over him. Speak to the children when he is dirtying his hands in battle." The researcher blinked slowly when he had finished, and turned his head to look at the man on his left.

"Unimportant though you say he is, the Elf-named is the one we must watch. Elven eyes he has. There is little he will miss," the man said, taking the researcher's gaze to mean it was his turn. "I advise that we follow distantly."

"No," the last man spoke. "No, we will not follow yet. We must wait for a falcon, or we cannot get word back to Master Vel." He looked straight across at Senia, who nodded.

"I will tell the children that I will join them in a week," she whispered, looking over her shoulder as though she could see Iryel and Tulian.

They all focused on Researcher, who thought for several minutes before nodding. "It is the safest thing that we ought to do. Very well, then. In one week."

********

It was an uncertain Beregond who led the men home to Minas Tirith. He had never before had to give orders to his King; nor had he ever imagined that he would serve a King such as Aragorn.

With so many names, it was surprising that he kept straight whom would call him what; and with each face was a slightly different manner, hardly noticeable except to those who knew him. How then did Arwen handle him?

Riding near the back, with Tulian in front of him and Iryel riding with a veteran guard, one who was the father of many children himself, 'Estel' would point out to them the various things that no mortal man, in Beregond's opinion, ought to have been able to notice.

The children would gasp in surprise and delight at the new revelations in the scenery, and the men would nearly crack their necks trying to turn quickly enough to catch the new thing as well.

Beregond longed to ask Aragorn how he would inform the children of his real station. There was a vast difference between a King and a soldier, and it would be quite a surprise to the children; even more so if he would not explain his apprehension towards Senia.

Correcting his horse's path, Beregond dragged his eyes back to the road. In response, the gelding shook his mane and, Beregond knew, began to search for a new way of reaching the lush green field they were passing. "It isn't going to happen," he murmured, lowering himself closer to the horse's ear; in answer, that ear flicked back and swatted his face.

He had felt strange, at first, speaking to his mount with words as well as 'body language'. He knew from rumor that Elves spoke to all creatures -even plants- and when Aragorn and Arwen took the throne, there was a great deal more 'horse-speaking' around the stables of Minas Tirith. Eventually Beregond had taken up this habit and, he suspected, so had many other riders.

Aragorn was teaching Tulian and Iryel an Elvish song; the flowing words caused the horses to lift their heads a little higher, to catch the sound better, and their hooves lifted a little more. The men listened in silence; the sun shone down on them when she could find her way past the dark green elm leaves.

********

The wolf thought she was doing her pack a favor. Glorfindel knew this; he assumed Asfaloth, too, knew where she was taking them. Or rather, where they were following her to. He had taken her off of the rope and she had headed away from the late-morning sun; West, where her pack had called to her the night before.

And as an offering, she brought fresh meat: a tamed animal and its blind rider. Grimly, the Elf Lord tightened his grip on Asfaloth's reins; the stallion made a soft sound low in his throat, comforting yet quiet, so that the wolf would not hear.

Glorfindel knew not how long they followed. The wolf was mostly healed, and when healthy her kind could go for perhaps a day at a jaunty trot, hardly slowing at all. But when the sun no longer felt so warm on his body, Asfaloth stopped, and there was silence.

Straining his ears against the pounding of his heart, Glorfindel heard the brush rustling in front of him, but he could not have judged the distance. That he left to Asfaloth. Soon the pack broke their silence, and greeted their lost sister, but there was no sound of horses or men anywhere with the pack. Glorfindel was cold with relief.

His hearing came back to his control, and perhaps two or three miles off, he heard faint hoof beats; that was where the men were, then. Two at least, and they were in no great hurry, and apparently not worried that the wolves were so far behind.

Slowly pushing back his cloak, the Elf closed his hand around the hilt of something very familiar to an ancient warrior. It was a short sword, and not what he favored lately, but his memories were keen of a time when he had been very accustomed to swords like it.

Almost mouthing the words, so wary was he of alerting the wolves, Glorfindel urged Asfaloth on into the center of the pack. The wolves didn't know what to make of this. Though Glorfindel could not see it, they fanned out into a circle and looked back and forth from one another to the horse and rider.

Before Glorfindel had finished giving the request, Asfaloth cantered away; the wolves quickly gave chase, at last realizing that this was prey. The horse slowed, as if tiring, and with a snarl, one wolf sprang lightly off the ground, seeking a grip on the horse's flanks. Glorfindel turned slightly in the saddle, hearing the wolf as it rushed, and deftly impaled it upon his sword.

Jerking the blade free, Asfaloth turned, leading the chase elsewhere. The scent of blood drove Vel's wolves mad, but unlike hounds, they did not bay and announce their presence as they ran.

Asfaloth paused, turning about as though now stricken with terror, and the wolves cut off his escape. They attacked one or two at a time, and while Asfaloth struck out when he could, Glorfindel guarded his sides as best he could. He heard the familiar snarl of the wolf he had taken in, but thus far that was all she had done; the stronger members of her pack handled the hunt.

When the wolves were down to three standing, their blood lust subsided. At last realizing the stupidity of their ambush, they turned and ran; Asfaloth followed them, an easy task for him, as he was not winded and Glorfindel's wolf was still half-limping.

Glorfindel fought the urge to stop Asfaloth. He had a clear idea of the risk he was taking; it was the reason he had not told Legolas, nor anyone, of what he planned. He had less to lose than they. He had nothing to lose, save Asfaloth. So even if he made no change at all in the forces that were against his people, at least he would know for certain what his imprisoned kindred faced, and he, Glorfindel of Gondolin and Rivendell, would never leave them alone in torment. 

With this thought, Glorfindel's resolve hardened, and fear fled from his mind, leaving nothing behind but peace.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Daro, Asfaloth," means "Stop, Asfaloth."

"Lasto!" means "Listen!"

"Ado an Legolas, Asfaloth," means "Back to Legolas, Asfaloth"

"mellon nin" means "my friend"

I'm taking it really slow with the climax, it seems, but hang in there, I do have one (and an ending) they're just not to my liking yet. :-) Thank you so much for the reviews! I LOVE feedback on this story; helps sooo much, even the little ones.


	16. Trapping the Hunter

Glorfindel heard the bones clacking together like broken wind chimes, and knew that Asfaloth was quickly closing the distance...

Vel turned, for he heard the pounding of hooves, so fast the white stallion must have come out of nowhere, and so strong he marveled that the ground was not shaking.

"An elf," Sen said, stupidly.

"A wolf," Vel answered, watching as a scruffy gray figure stopped several meters behind them, turned, and waited for her pursuers.

When they arrived, Vel found that his own horse shied away from the fire that burned in the Elven stallion's eyes. Vel saw that about the elf there was a light, and it called to mind the fear that was in his heart when he stepped onto his first battlefield. Yet when the Elf came closer, the light faded away and disappeared, and Vel wondered.

He had only seen a few Elves thus far, and that had been after the wolves, or Gamphall, had their way with them. In a way, this one was not so different from the shocked, beaten servants he had captured; but their glory was pounded down as they were bruised, and while this Elf bore many scars, he had a determined strength in his fair face. Vel rode forward to meet him, rather than having him shot off the stallion's back, though it was a moment before he risked moving his own horse.

"Who are you?" Vel asked. 

"I am Glorfindel, of Rivendell," the Elf replied, his voice clear and low, carrying a note of authority Vel had never heard from any man, save perhaps in Aragorn, and even that had been changed by the anger the King had for the Laskannik ruler. Glorfindel did not turn his head to follow the sound of Vel, as the man continued to circle him. "And I would not have disturbed you, except that you have my wolf."

At this Vel halted. "Your wolf? I think you are mistaken, Master Glorfindel. This wolf is mine; I am Vel Ptens, and I trained her."

A pale gold head turned to him now. "Yea, truly?"

Vel nodded, and smiled kindly before he realized that such actions went unseen, and were wasted. With the full weight of his knowledge, that this was a blind Elf, Vel felt control flood back into him. "Yes, Elf, I did." His tone was harsh now, and the kindness that often masked his eyes was gone. "And the majority of her pack; which brings me to something else. Where are they?"

The Elf's expression was smooth, and unreadable. "Dead, I'm afraid." His sharp white eyes turned directly on Vel, though they could not see him. "They have gone the way of all mortals."

Vel's eyes narrowed for a second. "If I did not know better, I would say that was a threat."

Glorfindel returned quietly, "For what reason do you think I would not threaten you?"

"Because you are in no position to be doing so!" Vel said, guiding his horse away from Asfaloth to a safer distance. A white figure appeared over the ridge of the hill, curious, no doubt, about the scent of blood from Glorfindel's battle with the wolves.

To the men's surprise, the Elf turned an ear in Gamphall's direction, and then turned back. "Perhaps not. But which do you suppose is more dangerous, to attempt to kill me now, or to take me prisoner and reunite me with my kin? Surely you understand that in either case, you take the same risks; that is, the loss of your life, and of your goal."

Vel laughed, but his eyes flashed with a hard, intelligent light. Gamphall stalked closer, his paws making no sound that mortal ears could catch. "We shall see, Elf, what fate decides for you."

  
  


The truth of the matter was, Glorfindel had scarcely heard the panther, and had he been alone, he would have paid the sound no heed. Vel was the true focus of his attention, but not of Asfaloth's; the horse had tensed when he smelled the predator, and brought the Eldar's focus onto dangers behind them.

He touched Asfaloth's neck in gratitude, and then Glorfindel tilted his chin towards the wolf, who had made no sound since leading him here. "Draug, im coth din, dan beriannen cuil lin. Thelo ha si. Sto ammen!" 

With nothing but a prayer to the Valar that the wolf would do as he bid, Glorfindel waited. Seconds later, he heard the wolf spring forward, snarling. At that same moment, Asfaloth raced forward, out of range of claw or fang.

Glorfindel reached to his right, knowing there was a horse and rider there though he knew not which man it was, and jerked the horse's head aside by the reigns. It nickered at him in indignation, but the effect was worth the insult. The man was unsteady for the few seconds Glorfindel needed to find him; he grabbed the man's tunic and pulled him forward. Unsheathing his blade with unfathomable speed, he placed the sharp edge against Sen's throat.

"An in roch nef, Asfaloth," he said, and Asfaloth moved to a position where Sen would be unable to pull a knife or fight Glorfindel's hold without having his throat slit first.

All the while, Vel watched with bemusement. Vel Ptens, who had killed so many of his own men, was not about to be concerned with losing one more; especially one so insubordinate as Sen. "Well met, Elf. Not quite enough, I'm afraid, but I find myself impressed nevertheless. Farewell." With that, Vel shifted his attention to the fight between the wolf and the panther. 

Gamphall was toying with her. It flattened itself to the ground and swiped at her with one paw, then rolled out of the way and was on its feet before she could retaliate. Seconds later, the playful twitch in Gamphall's tail ceased; a cold light came into its eyes. The wolf lunged at it, but the panther was far quicker. It came up from the ground and closed its fangs around her neck. Then it lay back down, dragging her onto her back.

She yelped, but it was a strangled sound, and Gamphall was not worried in the least about her attempts to pull free. She had no claws with which to cut him; no hooves to strike him with; nothing but soft paws and worn down nails.

Vel watched until the wolf quit struggling, and then turned his horse aside. Over his shoulder he said, "You have choices now, Glorfindel. You may die, at my hand or Gamphall's. Or, you may come with me and join your kind. This choice is rarely given, and you receive it now because you were quite educational. I never knew that the immortal beings could be damaged so...permanently."

Glorfindel dropped Sen to the ground and whispered to the man's horse, and it galloped away. Asfaloth easily cut off Vel's passage. "I have made my choice," Glorfindel answered quietly. "And it is to see my kin again."

Vel nodded. "Good!" he slid off the horse's back and walked over to Gamphall. He attached a message to the panther's metal collar, and sent it on its way. He turned back to Glorfindel. "Willing as you are, I still would be a fool to trust you to simply follow me. Your hands, if you please."

Glorfindel held out both hands, wrists together with the soft inner sides touching. If he had to be tied, he would not risk having his wrists cut and bleeding to death if Vel's horse suddenly became skittish, or if he had to struggle against the bindings.

The ties were leather, and thin; well-used, and very rough and dry in at least two spots that rubbed against Glorfindel's skin. Dried blood...that's what it was.

When Vel was seated, Glorfindel pulled slightly away from him, to see how firmly the rope was tied, and if it was attached to the horse or to Vel.

Thinking Glorfindel's actions no more than a result of Asfaloth lagging behind, Vel wrapped the lead around his left hand twice more. "Keep up, Elf. We've got a ways to go."

They went on for perhaps twenty winding miles, and Vel showed no signs of slowing even when the sun sank low, and the sky was stained with sunset. Had Vel been attuned to the wildlife around him, rather than simply his destination and fear of the enemy, he may have noticed the high cries of the birds. And had he known anything about the wildlife this far Northeast, he would also have noticed that the birds he should have been hearing did not ever come so far from their Western homes.

"We ought to stop now," Glorfindel said at last. Vel's horse didn't break stride for an instant. "There are creatures in this part of the world that you would not want to meet in the dead of night, not knowing where you are going. Had I my sight, I would direct you, but alas! I am blind, and know only of the threat, not how near or far it is."

"Are you a well-traveled Elf, then?" Vel asked, though his horse continued to plod on.

"Yea, I have traveled very far. To places that no mortal may step, save the Ringbearer. As for the land here, I have traveled them many years, and you would be wise to hearken to my warnings."

"I have faced harsh things in my own land, Glorfindel, and I do not fear the weaker beasts that dwell out here in the West. Hold your tongue...your fair voice does not sway me into obeying your commands."

Somewhere, a bird called; it echoed off the hills, and even if Vel had tried, he could not have pinpointed where it had come from.

To Glorfindel's ears, there was a faint whistle and the air stirred; he yanked hard away from his captor, expecting there to be some resistance, but his strength was greater than the man's. Vel was yanked off his horse and landed hard on one knee; Glorfindel nearly toppled from Asfaloth's back, but the stallion felt the sharp unbalance, and, craning his neck, he touched Glorfindel's leg with his nose. Glorfindel reacted by grabbing Asfaloth's long white mane with what grip he could manage with his bound hands, and steadied himself again. Vel moaned, but judging from the slack of the rope, was making no move to rise to his feet.

"I take it my actions did not cause a complete miss on your part," Glorfindel said, hearing the whisper of feet across the grass.

"No, fear not! My aim is not so terrible that I cannot still hit a moving object," was the chuckling answer.

"Still, I must apologize; rarely have I made such a misjudgement in balance and strength!"

"Here, then, let me see your hands." A deft stroke released him from Vel's tether. "And I insist you do not feel guilty. This may come to our advantage, if he is willing to tell us where the rest of the Elves are."

"I doubt that he will," Glorfindel frowned. "But I think a ransom would be paid for him. To his people's eyes, I deem he is worth setting free all their prisoners. Did you find the other? He was several hours' ride back that way," he motioned West.

"Halbarad did. I saw the tracks and continued after you; fortunately, you heard me! A new respect I have for the ears the Elves! Though that was a risky gamble; it was near night when you whistled."

"Hardly a risk; even if it had been, it would have been well worth it," Glorfindel rubbed his wrist gingerly. "The leather was far from comfortable."

Two men laughed now. One was down by Vel, removing the arrow, and the other was the one that had cut Glorfindel loose. It was the latter who spoke, "Let it be known; the penalty for tethering an Elf like a dog shall be one arrow in the shoulder! And then whatever punishment they deem fit. Come, Glorfindel; I think we have much to discuss with your captor, and with his words, we will have much to do ere the week is out."

********

Ral had reached the Northern fortress, but even when a week had passed, he found no desire to return to the blood-stained land of Laskan. Rather, they would wait here for the next group, and continue on together. True, he feared Vel's wrath, if the Captain were to come himself and find that Ral was being so lax in his duties, but the chances of Vel traveling over the mountains simply to check up on this group were too remote for real concern.

Up here, it was cold at night, but the stars shone as if there was no black sky between them and the earth. The Elves sang quietly at night, perhaps when they thought all the men had fallen asleep. It was at those times that, shivering so hard his bones ached, Ral would drag himself out of half-dreams and really watch the stars. He would stay up at night simply to hear the Elven songs, though he could not understand the words, and sometimes he feared he would lose his mind from the weariness. But each night he heard them, and each night he knew that nothing was worth more than the handful of hours spent lost in their songs.

The injured Elf, whose name Ral had learned was Galtaur, had recovered with the rest. If only men could heal as quickly! The wolves, too, had changed up here, in this strange land beyond the mountains. They were mellower; this mood was not constant, and they were still prone to bite for little reason, but they were more playful and more gentle for longer periods of time. If they came home tamed, Vel really would have Ral impaled. Ral reflected on this as he stared out over the flat, rocky terrain.

Very well then; I don't care if I ever come home, Ral thought to himself, feeling a rush of joy and pure freedom at admitting it, even if it was only to himself. For what purpose should he return to the ranks of Vel Ptens army, only to live in constant fear of torture, or obsolete hope of rising in stature?

But the men with him would never agree; and there would be other groups coming, and they would disagree as well. There was nowhere to hide up here in the North. Ral's fate was sealed...but he could put that off for a little while.

With a sigh, half of contentment, half of weariness, Ral nodded to himself and promised, Just for a little while.

  
  
  
  
  
  


"Draug, im coth din, dan beriannen cuil lin. Thelo ha si. Sto ammen!" means "Wolf, I am your enemy, but I protected your life. Resolve it (the debt) now. Help us!"

"An in roch nef, Asfaloth," means "To the horse('s) side, Asfaloth"

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The guys that helped Glorfindel are Rangers. I mentioned Halbarad, because he was the only Ranger I could find the name of, so if you're hard core that might've been a big hint. Unless you're a Pachelbel-type hard-core, in which you never remember names, so then it wouldn't have made a difference. :-) It was just a crazy experiment...I wanted to see if I could do the whole scene without the word "Ranger" or "Dunedain". Sorry for any confusion/disappointment!


	17. Blood Under The Moon

Author's Notes: Well, I'm back after a very long break. Not so much a vacation as, well, slacking off. A round of gratitude is due to all of my reviewers, because you all help to point out things, inspire me, and keep me going.

  
  
  
  


It seemed that the instant Gondor was in sight (or rather, in the keen sight of Aragorn), the former Ranger drew himself up a little straighter in the saddle, and was a little more stern than he had been before. The children, Iryel and Tulien, hardly seemed to notice, or else were too weary from travel to pay any heed to 'Estel's change in demeanor.

In fact, Tulien was bordering on sleep, and Iryel's eyes appeared heavy even to Beregond who only saw her in short glances, when they rode into the white city. The sight quickly roused the two, but Estel now spoke to them more quietly, and pointed things out more discreetly.

When they stopped inside the palace gates, just before the royal stables, Aragorn swiftly lowered the children and dismounted. He gave the reigns to a groom, with a gentle word of thanks to his horse, and then turned back to the children. "Come, we must go to the queen immediately," he said, and held out his hands. Iryel took his left while her brother took the King's right, and they hurried with him into the palace of Minas Tirith.

  
  
  
  


Vel's shoulder ached and his fingers were numb, frozen almost. But this was nothing to him. He, Vel Ptens, conqueror of his own homeland, had faced worse injuries and-he assumed-worse odd than these. 

An icy, solid hatred was growing in him and it caused him to smile, if only a little. He knew the feeling well. It only came to him when he had an opportunity to escape and kill his captors while he did it.

He let them think he was in too much pain to speak, and watched them closely. The best time to observe any creature, humans included, was when they didn't think they were being watched. ...That, or when they were frightened. Vel had a lot of experience with both forms of observation.

They had taken the arrow from his shoulder, and even bathed it in their renowned healing herbs (such things did not grow in Laskan). But Vel was not fool enough to take this as a sign of friendship. No, they wanted him alive for interrogation, and healthy for when he was to be tortured. Vel had been through similar treatment before, and in fact had done the same to countless people.

His eyes hardened with contempt, and he began to seek a way of escape. Not that he feared torture, and not that he would ever betray his plans; but one did not wish for pain, at least not on oneself.

There were two men and the Elf. He was unsure of the Elf's capabilities (the creature was blind, yet he had a feeling there were other capabilities gifted only to the Elder species) but he thought he had the men figured out.

He could not fight all of them at once. If he could separate the men, he could kill the remaining guard silently and have the Elf under his control once more. The Elf could, apparently, survive on his own, and Vel had to assume that it was possible for Glorfindel to make his way to help and alert the enemy to Vel's presence...and his injury, his isolation.

Vel began, slowly, to drag his feet ever so often. This slowed the group considerably, until at last Vel seemed barely conscious at all and they were forced to stop for the night.

  
  


It had been a long ride, and an even longer night for Legolas and his company. At last the Sun rose, spreading her warmth over a land that was wet with dew and cold with fear. Legolas had spent the night staring at the stars, worrying for Glorfindel and Arwen, Aragorn...

He watched streaks of color appear in the sky above him, thinking back to the sunrise he and Arwen and Glorfindel had seen, all those weeks ago. With a sick feeling, he realized he was no more at peace now than he had been then.

The elf prince had heard Arod behind him, pacing, but had put him out of mind until Arod rudely interrupted his thoughts by thumping his nose against Legolas's cheek. Legolas turned his clear gray eyes to his companion and found himself warmed by the spirit in Arod's red and white face.

"I am up, my friend," he assured the horse, rising gracefully to his feet. "And as I see you are refreshed, I suggest we start the day with breakfast before we move on."

Arod began his search for treats he always assumed Legolas hid in his pockets, and the elf patiently waited for his horse to finish. Arod lipped the hilt of Legolas' knife, and with a laugh the elf pushed him away. That hilt bore many scars now due to Arod's belief that it was, in fact, made of sugar cubes and not ivory.

"Sire," one of the men hissed, jogging up to Legolas. The man was red in the face and out of breath, but very excited. "I was scouting and I came upon a wolf; it was dead, half eaten in fact. Not far from there, four men were camped with a pack of wolves around them, tethered to trees."

"In which direction?"

"North, Northwest, about two or three miles from here," the soldier panted, motioning off into the thickest and darkest part of the woods.

"Alas that I was so lost in my own mind I did not see them! I hope that I can make up for my mistake now. Collerusc, gather a party of six elves and come with me. Hurry!"

Legolas was quickly joined by a group of the finest hunters of Mirkwood. They took to the trees and set off to find their enemy.

  
  


The night was windy and starless. Wisps of cloud blew across the night sky like specters' shredded tails, and the half moon could leave not even a trace of light for Vel's escorts. It seemed to the conqueror of Laskan that, aside from the clouds, they were alone in the woods.

Whatever it was that they had been bathing his wound in, it was working much more effectively than any medicine Vel had heard rumor of. His gratitude was grudging, however, as they would not leave him untied for any reason; when it came time to change his bandages, one Ranger stood watch while the other worked.

The night was an uneasy one already, only a few hours after sundown. With a quick smile, Vel reflected that it was only going to get worse as the darkness deepened around them. He could not count on anyone to come and save him, not even Gamphall...this was his escape and his alone. His captors would pay dearly.

He shifted, making it appear that he was uncomfortable, and half fell-half crawled- towards the small fire. One of the Rangers was sitting in front of it, but Vel could not see if he was asleep or not.

"My shoulder burns," he murmured after a while, when he had seen the Ranger's eyes glowing from the firelight. "I feel it may be getting worse."

The Ranger glanced at him, his expression tired or annoyed, or both. He pushed himself into a crouching position in front of Vel, leaning over him, and pushed aside Vel's tunic as much as possible.

Vel reached up, graceful and silent, but swiftly, and gripped the Ranger's trachea between his thumb and middle finger. The Ranger could make no sound as his air was cut off. His gasping went unheard by the other Rangers, who were scouting for wolves.

Vel released the Ranger when he went still, at last able to grab the coveted dagger at the dead man's belt. He cut the lower cords of his tether, hoping to keep up the appearance of being captive. Then he hid the knife under the folds of his tunic's long sleeves and listened breathlessly for the return of his enemy.

There was nothing.

"How do these men come and go so silent," he wondered aloud, feeling a slight chill in the air. "Surely they must be phantoms...or so I thought." He smirked at the mortal remains of the older man.

"Nay, not phantoms," a soft voice answered behind him. Vel started at the intrusive noise, but felt a cold blade against his neck and forced himself to be still. "Though you know this now. If it is one for whom the grave is but a temporary resting place, or one against whom your tricks cannot succeed, then you need to look no further than I." The blade was pressed deeper against his skin and the Elf's voice became a fierce hiss. "I was slain once by a creature both more honorable and terrible than you."

Vel reached up, a last effort to push the blade away and escape (this Elf was only blind, after all; once Vel was on his feet he would have the advantage) but Glorfindel felt his movement and reacted instantly, pulling the blade tight against Vel's throat and slid it sharply off.

Vel was helpless then. He bled and died there in the forest that night, for indeed his throat had been slit by an Elvish blade, wielded by one of the greatest Elven warriors who ever had served Middle-earth.... 

But no one saw.

More AN: Right, then. Tomorrow, I tackle Aragorn and Arwen's conversation. Suddenly hoping I didn't scare people off by killing my villain so suddenly...I blame it on the moon! It's the moon, I tell you! It's keeping me up because it's so bright tonight!


End file.
